


Out of Reach

by fortheloveofsigyn



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofsigyn/pseuds/fortheloveofsigyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Loki, life at court grows tedious, but when a woman who is beyond even his grasp enters his life, the exhilaration alone is enough to keep him wanting more. Sigyn has long since resigned herself to the life she leads despite her contempt for it- but the affair quickly becomes much more than a just game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Amidst a haze created by both his own consumption of wine and the gradual build of irritation such an event left upon him, Loki was beginning to look for an escape from the celebration surrounding him. Though he had reached the point of willingness to accept any excuse to leave, a small part of him clung to the hope that the pretext might come in a form with a pretty face, neatly wrapped in a flowing dress. That being said, he thought, lifting his glass to his lips to swallow the last of the liquor it held, he’d appreciate a bit of a challenge.

 

No measure of false modesty would prevent him from admitting that, beyond his title- though he knew it had always played a hand- he possessed a good many qualities that had repeatedly proved quite advantageous when it came to the fairer sex. Whilst Thor somehow never managed to go amiss with his brash, undisguised pursuits, Loki had always preferred a more subtle approach, long since having perfected his method: an air of elegance coupled with a smirk that promised his intentions were not all so civil.

Now, however, as his gaze flitted around the great hall of the palace at the drinking, dancing, mingling party-goers around him, Loki was left bored and unfulfilled. He payed no heed to the conversation around him, though something just said had left several of its participants laughing. Instead, he examined his surroundings with growing impatience.

In truth, he could hardly remember the cause for the celebrations; it seemed there was always a reason for them to gather, and it grew tedious. So, for that matter, did the guests. Most, by Loki’s count were uninteresting and overconfident in their ability to be just the opposite. He was growing tired of smiles and niceties, and it was normally such feelings that prompted him to remove one of the ladies in attendance to his chambers. Even this notion, however, seemed less appealing tonight and had become increasing less promising as he had circulated amongst the guests throughout the evening.

Most of the women with whom he’d spoken, he had almost immediately labelled as overenthusiastic; many of them were pretty but were nothing exciting nor tempting enough. He’d spoken with one young woman who’d appeared notably grim, and- briefly- with another whom he’d had before.

Somewhat disappointed by his lack of prospects, he made his excuses, prepared to retire alone when something caught his eye- a strand of pearls glimmering on the neck of a courtier near the wall opposite him. Yet, while it was the jewels that had somehow captured his gaze, it was not they but rather the neck they adorned that was truly remarkable. 

Uncommonly long and possessing an almost ethereal quality he’d never have thought to assign to such a seemingly mundane a feature as a neck, it drew his eyes up to the visage it supported: that of a young woman who’s gaze was directed, it seemed, towards something above her. Or perhaps, Loki thought, as he watched her suck in her lips in what he took for a habitual behavior, she was not looking at anything but was merely lost in thought.

As he watched, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, revealing it to be adorned with more pearls. From the way she held herself to the carefully guarded expression her wore, he found her demeanor to be inexplicably enticing. His gaze moved to her long, dark auburn curls and then to the deep crimson of her dress. His interest wavered at this, unable to help wondering if the color was meant as a device to play to the favors of the elder prince. No sooner had this thought entered his head, however, had an arm slipped around the waist of the girl, and she turned to face the owner of it: a tall man of a broad build dressed in the regalia of a Crimson Hawk. He spoke into her ear, and she nodded, turning to walk from the hall with him but not before Loki had spotted the wedding band on her finger. Far from being put off, he felt a flare of excitement that would have never ignited in a better man than he.

His eyes did not leave her as she was swept from the hall alongside her husband, completely ignorant to the fact that she had just captured the attentions of a prince… a prince who had every intention of getting exactly what he wanted.


	2. Chapter 1

Had Sigyn know earlier that love was no more than an illusion, perhaps the truth would’ve been easier to swallow. As it was, she had fallen into the trap of belief in it prematurely, only to have it snatched away and replaced with the harshness of reality. 

Though it had taken a while for the fantasies of her youth to fade entirely, both time and her ever-growing distrust of her husband had worn down on them until they had disappeared all together. If love did exist, she thought, it was not for people like her- people who followed the rules, people who were eager to please and impress.

She supposed on that score, she was the perfect fit for Lord Theoric. He liked to show off, and she did not like to disappoint. Nevertheless, her marriage to him was far from what she had imagined the sacrament would be. 

 

The first surprise had come shortly after they had exchanged vows when she had been given a bedroom of her own, something she had found quite odd but had shrugged off as a custom of the elite. It didn’t bother her much, and, at the time, he had visited her bed regularly enough that it didn’t make much of a difference. 

But then a year passed. Then another and several more after that, and she could not remember the last time he’d looked her in the eyes let alone come to her at night. For a time, her nights were spent laying awake wondering if he might yet appear, but he never did. Instead she would wait, growing increasingly sure that she had done something wrong.

Eventually, she stopped waiting. So let him sleep in his own room then, she’d thought bitterly. In a way, it was a relief.

As yet unbeknownst to her, however, she had been wrong in her assumptions concerning where he preferred to spend his nights, though it was quite some time until the first inkling of doubt had entered her head. 

She had gone knocking on his door that night, only meaning to enter in search of a shawl that seemed to have been misplaced. When no reply came from the other side of the door, she had peered inside to find him missing. When questioned on the matter, one of his servants had told her he had “gone out, much as he does on many other nights.”

"Of course," was all Sigyn had been able to offer in response. She had quickly returned to her room, trying to convince herself she had imagined the look of pity on the servant’s face. Never for a moment on all the nights she had waited for him, had she ever imagined him to be anywhere other than in his own room. 

When at last he did return that night- reeking of booze, so unsteady on his own feet that it was a wonder he’d made it home at all- she began to realize just how naive she had been. 

She had watched from the landing, partially concealed by a column as he had been nearly carried up three flights of stairs by a pair of servants, noting with hardened eyes that the front of his breeches were mostly unlaced. 

Gently, her maid had guided her back to her own room in silence. She’d wanted to ask how often this happened, how it was that she had never known before… Instead she had grit her teeth and turned away from the sight, leaving behind her husband and most of her capacity to trust. 

Reflecting now upon her former notions of romance and of how soft she had been, believing there were still wonders in store for her, Sigyn felt ridiculous. As the years continued to slip away, she had only grown more bitter and resentful, and Theoric seemed more ignorant of the fact than ever. He’d lost all interest in her, it seemed, along with all notions of tact.

More and more often he would invite other warriors into their home where they would drink until the early hours of the morning, their booming voices carrying throughout the house. She wondered what Theoric could possibly be discussing at such lengths as it had always seemed to her that he was versed only in one topic of conversation: himself. 

When she spoke to him, he barely grunted in response. When he spoke to her it was most often to find fault, and she stayed silent. 

She wondered if she were not as tall as she had once been. 

Together with him, she attended many an event, always the picture of poise and comeliness just as Theoric desired her to be. She often spent such occasions being constantly reminded that others appeared to be capable of happiness; only she seemed to be weighted down by an unrelenting discontentment, and she wondered again what was wrong with her.

On one particularly notable occasion, he had brought home with him a woman who sold her love. Sigyn had spent a sleepless night sitting on the floor beside her own bed, eyes empty. It was one thing to hear the vile friends that Theoric possessed speak of whore-houses, but it was another thing entirely to try  _not_  to hear what was happening down the hall. She’d stared blankly up at the ceiling, wondering what in the nine she had ever seen in him.

Granted, during their brief courtship there had been flowers and praises- words she’d taken as assurances of his affection at the time- and it would’ve been a lie to say she’d not once found his title appealing. 

To her dismay, however, not only had all such attentions from him stopped the moment there was a ring on her finger, but she had soon come to realize he was not the only man capable of offering such things.

In her ignorance, she had thought them to be unique coming from Theoric. In truth, however, whilst they were superficial and fleeting, she now knew they were available in great abundance. And though she’d grown to cherish acknowledgement she received from any quarter, the novelty of such praises was always short-lived. 

Vaguely, she wondered what the men from whom they came saw when they looked at her. An opportunity? Excitement? She held neither for them, something they’d all realized soon enough; she was alone in her fate, and yet she had resigned herself to it.

It was for this reason, Sigyn was entirely unimpressed when she began to notice that the eyes of a certain gentlemen seemed to follow her wherever she went.

She had first noticed it in the palace courtyard, where she had sat one day conversing with a few other women of the court, her younger, recently-married sister amongst them. 

Believing she felt a pair of eyes on her, she’d glanced behind to see no one. Unperturbed, she’d returned to her to conversation, but when it persisted and she looked again, what she saw caused her to start.

Her brows had drawn together in confusion as her eyes met those of the prince, the younger one. He gave a small nod of his head in acknowledgement of her, and she returned the courtesy. Before she could concern herself with what he was looking at, however, he had turned and walked swiftly away.

He’s not looking at you, Sigyn, she tried to convince herself at first. Why would he be? As it went on, however, she could produce no other explanation for it. Had there only been one occurrence, she would have dismissed it, but the opposite was true.  In all her years at court, she had never seen him as many times as she did in the following months. It began to seem as if every time she set foot anywhere near the palace, he was there.

At first it was careful glances, but it soon became more than that when he realized she had caught onto him: an arched brow and curled lips; a glass lifted in acknowledgement towards her when she caught him looking; a tiny, infuriating smirk when their eyes met and she held his gaze for just a moment too long.

Her irritation with the situation growing, she stopped giving him the satisfaction of looking when she felt his eyes on her. She had spoken to him a grand total of two times, and only on very formal terms; she doubted he remembered either, and yet now, he seemed to have taken it upon himself to become her shadow. She found it all very distracting.

Though he would likely be disappointed if he chose to do so, she thought one night when once again she found herself at the palace, had he wished to approach her, it would have been only too easy. When in attendance at court, she preferred to distance herself from her husband, and this night was no exception. 

She hovered at the edge of the crowd, fiddling absently with the stem of an empty champagne glass. As ever, the room seemed to have a warm glow, and she found that if she gave it her undivided attention, she could make everything else melt away.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat, breaking her little reverie, and she turned, vaguely surprised to find a young page boy waiting for her, chewing anxiously on his lip.

"My lady," he said quietly, bowing a little. "Pardon the interruption, but the prince has requested an audience with you. Prince Loki," he clarified.

Her brow furrowed at this, and without reply, Sigyn glanced over her shoulder, spotting the prince near the top of the room, conversing politely with some dignitary or other, for once, not looking her way. Wondering why he’d chosen this moment, her gaze drifted to her husband who seemed sufficiently distracted. Surely he would not notice her absence….

"If you would come with me…?" the boy said rather awkwardly, pulling her attention back to him.

"Yes, of course," she said looking back to him. She offered him a kind smile as she set her empty glass aside. He nodded, looking rather relieved, and showed her from the hall, into a small anti-chamber down the corridor. 

"He won’t be long… He’s just asked that you wait here."

Sigyn nodded. “Yes, thank you.” 

As she found herself alone once more, waiting and listening to the now muffled sounds of the party nearby, she found her thoughts drifting to his reasoning for calling for her. She could not, of course, have refused the summons of a prince; yet even in spite of the agitation he was causing her, she realized, even if she could have, she would not have declined his invitation.

After so much time spent wondering what he could possibly be thinking each time they met one another’s gaze, the prospect of learning now was almost exciting. As her mind flicked through the possibilities, she found herself growing increasingly anxious.

By the time the door swung open, her nerves were positively fluttering, but judging from the conduct of the prince as he entered the room, his were doing anything but. 

Loki gave her a small smile as he entered, nodding in acknowledgement as he strode forward with the utmost grace, watching as she sank into a respectful curtsy. He came to a stop before her, smiling still, saying nothing yet. 

He had carefully planned everything leading up to this meeting as if they were both players in a game or warriors in the field. Though he knew his intentions were likely clear to her, she had no idea of the extent to which he had thought it all over. Everything was a crucial element of his game, from the smallest of glances to the choice of page he had sent for her; he felt it only appropriate to take a moment to enjoy the successful outcome of all his work.

"Lady Sigyn," Loki, at last, said softly.

She straightened up. “Your highness.” He merely held her gaze another moment, noting that she shifted uncomfortably.

"Forgive me for stealing you from tonight’s festivities," he said graciously, offering her a perfectly charming smile which she returned politely, almost mechanically.

"You do not need my forgiveness, your highness," she replied amiably.

"Indeed not?" Loki asked, his lips curling up at the corners. She made no secret of the fact that she was entirely unfooled by him, and he found it more than a little amusing.

"I’m afraid I may owe you an explanation, at the very least," he said. "My behavior where you are concerned has been less than tactful. I had foolishly hoped to catch you on your own, but you never seem to be. I ought to have taken the matter upon myself sooner."

Her brow furrowed as she replied.

"I’m afraid I cannot understand what I’ve done to have brought this about…"

His smile only broadened at her conduct: so perfectly composed and elegant. He wondered what it would take to cause her to act otherwise…

"No?… Perhaps not," he said, folding his hands together, tapping one long finger on the back of his other hand as he considered. "I suppose I can’t put my finger on it either," he admitted with a chuckle, "but I would deny to no one that there is something remarkably intriguing about you."

She gave a little huff. “Have you not yet discerned it from all your staring at me?” she asked dryly. His eyes widened a little in surprise, as did hers as she seemed to realize the potential ramifications of her words, and she flushed. 

"I didn’t mean…" she backtracked quickly, but he cut her off with a shake of his head, clucking his tongue playfully, as though he were disappointed in himself. 

"Ahh…." he sighed, "I never meant to give you trouble, Sigyn. Believe me," he said holding up his hands in defense with a little chuckle. "Tell me…" he pressed, mischievous grin returning. "Have I become an  _irritant_?”

His eyes locked on hers, watching closely as she debated whether or not to tell him the truth, and she surprised him.

"Yes, I think so, your highness."

He scoffed at this, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “That’s a  _very_  carefully crafted answer, my lady, isn’t it?” he asked, just barely managing to repress his amusement as he ran back through the words, examining her choice in them. “Yes… I _think so_ …..  _your highness_ ….” He shook his head again. 

"Tell me," he began out of curiosity, "if I were to ask that you call me by my birth name-"

Sigyn shook her head. “I’m afraid I couldn’t,” she said quickly, before he could finish. He tilted his head a bit, studying her. Had this not been the response he’d anticipated, he would not have asked at all; he had yet to decide whether he would truly allow such an informality. 

"Couldn’t? Oh dear," he said mirthfully, "why ever not?" 

"I do not wish to be too familiar, your highness," she explained plainly. Looking almost apologetic, she added, "I’m afraid your time may be better spent elsewhere."

He nodded a bit, considering this; in all fairness, she was probably right. “There is quite a sting in rejection, isn’t there?” he pressed. “I don’t suppose I could I sway you to reconsider?”

"I am flattered, your highness. Truly," Sigyn said, and for the first time since their conversation had begun, he could have almost believed her words genuine. "But I  _am_ married….”

"And yet, I do not see your husband," Loki pointed out, glancing around. "In fact, in all the times I’ve seen you, I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you at his side, much less exchanging words with him."

He closely observed the effect his own words had on her, taking note as her jaw tightened and her gaze shifted away from his.

"And yet he is my husband."

Loki nodded slowly. “Hmm…. You must love him so very much,” he goaded her.

Another pause. “Of course,” she said tightly, still not meeting his gaze. He was silent a moment before speaking again.

"Well, I dare not trifle with such a union,"he said more softly, stepping aside, clearing her path to the door. "You’re free to go if you wish. Though I do should truly hope to see more of both you and Lord Theoric. He is an amusing man, is he not?"

Sigyn did not reply. Loki watched the subtleties of her mannerisms, as her gaze flickered to the floor and she gave the smallest hum of agreement.

"Must be quite sharp as well…." Loki pressed on in a low voice. "…to be a member of the Crimson Hawks…. How very, very fortunate you are. Not all of us are so lucky. But to have found someone who truly cares for you and you alone-"

"Your highness, please," Sigyn murmured, frowning. "I… can’t imagine you are unaware what you’re doing." She looked up at him searchingly. She attempted a smile, clearly trying to pass the moment of with lightheartedness, but it didn’t seem to sit right with her and she looked away again, biting her tongue. For a moment, he was almost remorseful. He was unable to help wondering whether she knew his stratagem better than he’d thought. 

"Surely there’s no need to be unkind," she pressed on. With a sigh, she shook her head. "You said I was free to go, so if you’ll pardon me I will take my leave now…"

He waited to speak until she had strode past him in silence, nearly reaching the door.

"Is it unkind?" he asked her in earnest. She froze, but did not yet turn back. 

"Is it truly? To offer you an escape, if only a temporary one?" he continued. "Surely, Lady Sigyn, you deserve some happiness…"

She turned now, looking just as anxious as she had when he had first entered the room. “I…” 

She fell silent, though her lips stayed parted as she considered possible responses. To his surprise, she decided against all words, her lips pursing together as her gaze fell to the floor once again. After another beat, she turned back to the door, skirts whipping out of sight as she slipped from the room without another word, leaving him alone.


	3. Chapter 2

In the days following his conversation with Lady Sigyn, Loki poured over her words again and again, milking from them every ounce of meaning he could.

_I’m afraid your time may be better spent elsewhere_ , she had said.

Loki had no doubt of this. From the beginning, he had known this to be a rather hopeless pursuit. Whenever he attempted, however, to put her from his thoughts, it was a matter of mere minutes before she crept back in, her image flooding his mind, the echo of her voice filling his ears, and he knew the only truly hopeless cause would be an attempt to forget her.

 

There was now no question in his mind that there was a great deal more to her than he’d originally perceived, and having been allowed the smallest glimpse of it, he was filled with a burning desire for more. 

He longed to know the things she didn’t tell her husband. He wanted to see that perfectly arranged, ever-so-guarded expression split into a smile and know that he was the cause. 

Admittedly, he had wanted a challenge, and she was certainly not disappointing, but he’d begun to realize that he had gotten into far more than he had bargained for. Her marriage, the obstacle he had anticipated, was not nearly so large of a deterrent as her guarded and careful nature. 

The facade she wore had been made evident the moment they’d begun to speak; it was remarkably akin to his own, and as such, she had seemed almost entirely unfazed by him, something he had not counted on but had found to be amusing nevertheless. 

Her admonitions still fresh in his mind, he had since striven to adhere to certain boundaries. It was proving to be nearly impossible to keep his focus on anything else whilst she was in the room, but he upheld his resolve. He wished to speak to her again, not observe her from afar, and his patience did not go unrewarded.

On the afternoon he spotted her silhouette standing over the table he often occupied in a remote corner of the library, he did not immediately realize who she was. A flicker of irritation ignited within him; he was unaccustomed to being disturbed here, and having vacated the spot only minutes ago in search of another text, he had not expected to any unwelcome guests.

Loki held no qualms with the prospect of frightening the unsuspecting maiden away, but as he approached, he suddenly recognized the shadowed woman. His scathing words died on his lips, replaced with a smirk. 

He should have realized at a glance. There was no other woman in his acquaintance that held herself quite like that- somehow radiating all the same elegance as all the rest whilst retaining a remarkably unassuming disposition. He realized he had never before seen her in such an unguarded state as she was in now.

Her soft curls, save for one which had sprung free, were bound loosely in a knot at the nape of her neck. Tugging unconsciously at the loose curl, she sucked in her lips, deep in thought, a behavior Loki recognized from the night she had first captured his attention. He smiled, rather impressed to find that she had immersed herself in one of the books he had left on the table.

The remaining distance between them was covered in silence. Propping his shoulder against a shelf just behind her, he observed for a moment longer the woman who tormented his every thought.

"That isn’t yours," he said, causing Sigyn to start and whip around to face him, her eyes wide with alarm. Loki chuckled.

"Oh!" she said breathlessly, trying to compose herself. "Oh… Your Highness…."

She gave a little nod of her head, in greeting. Loki’s response was a more formal bow, and he watched with satisfaction as this only further flustered her. 

"Forgive me. Is it yours?" she asked, clearing her throat as her eyes flickered down to the book with apprehension.

"Indeed it is," he replied almost apologetically.

"Forgive me," she said again, quickly replacing it on the table. "It was left here so I just assumed…." 

"So you assumed it was yours for the taking?" 

Evidently missing the teasing tone in his voice, she bit her lip nervously, impeding any other words that she may have spoken had he not cut her off. Another habit of hers, perhaps….

“Please do not mistake my jest for unkindness, my lady. I’m merely making light of the matter,” he assured her. "This is not a private library. You had no way of knowing someone had lain claim to these books. My blaming you would be absurd…. You ought to have fought back." 

He grinned; she looked uncertain.

"Perhaps, but I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me…" she said quietly, taking a step away from the table. "I really ought to go.

"Was it to your liking?" he asked, his question fixing her where she stood.

"Come again?"

"This." He pushed away from the shelf and snatched up the book she had left behind, riffling through the pages. "Does it interest you?"

She quickly shook her head, dismissing the matter. “It is of little import, my prince. I did not know it was yours.”

"Speaking in technicality, everything here is mine," he pointed out lightly. "Or my family’s anyway." 

He gave her a little smile and held it out to her. 

"I insist you take it, Lady Sigyn….. Or do you not believe my offer to be genuine?" he asked when she hesitated.

"You are a known liar," she observed, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of her lips as she closed the distance between them and accepted the text from him. He gave an appreciative laugh.

"Thank you…" she bid him. Her small hands clutched the book tightly, fingers tracing their way down the binding and drawing Loki’s attention. The desire to reach out and steady them, to place the book aside and bring each one of her fingers to his lips in turn was suddenly overpowering. 

As though she knew the nature of his thoughts, Sigyn’s eyes flickered towards the door. She either didn’t trust him, Loki thought, or she didn’t trust herself to be near him….

"I had really best be going…." she said again but without the conviction she’d held the first time she had spoken the words.

_Stay_ , he thought, his mind racing for any reason to keep her there, if only for a minute longer. It was with mild delight that he recalled the news his father had shared with him and Thor that morning- news regarding Lord Theoric himself and, of which, Loki was willing to wager, Sigyn had not yet been made aware.

"Ah, of course,” he said graciously. "Big day, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ll want to be home when your husband arrives…" he pressed. "Congratulations by the way. It’s quite an honor…."

"Pardon?"

"Have you not heard heard, Lady Sigyn?" he said, feigning surprise at her ignorance. "Well in that case, do allow me the privilege of telling you that your husband has been promoted."

Loki watched as her features became suddenly clouded by consternation. 

"Promoted?" she repeated, her airy tone betraying her concern that this was something of which she should have already been made aware.

"Indeed. He would only have learned it this morning," he assured her. "General Maurr has announced his retirement, and several of the men have moved up the ranks as a result. Theoric is to be named Captain of his unit."

"Oh…." 

Her lips pursed as she processed this information, leaving Loki unable to discern what she truly thought of it. “In that case, I really do need to get home before he does…. “

She began to turn from him, but before she had taken even a single step away, she turned back again with a light, “Oh-!” suddenly appearing to have remembered something. 

"Are you sure about the book?" she asked him in earnest, and he smiled.  Unlike any words he had ever heard her speak before, this query had flown from her mouth as an afterthought, unplanned and uncensored. 

"Perfectly sure," he replied, observing her unguarded persona with interest. "I look forward to seeing you at the ceremony next week." 

By then, she too had sensed the lapse, and before his eyes, she quickly became sheathed within her armor once more.  For a moment, Loki thought she was going to say something else, but she merely ducked her head in reverence and turned away from him.

"Good evening, Lady Sigyn," he said quietly as the door swung shut behind her, leaving him alone once again and thoroughly distracted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It’s all quite exciting isn’t it?" Sigyn’s hand maiden, Kata, asked gently, as though trying to coax from her the appropriate response to the matter. She stood behind Sigyn at the vanity table, sliding pins into her hair in preparation for the ceremony that evening. "A captain…"

Sigyn attempted a small smile at her in the mirror. She knew she ought to find it all ‘quite exciting’. Theoric, after all, seemed to view it as his single greatest accomplishment to date, but try as she may to act impressed, he seemed to find her enthusiasm lacking.

_I suppose it’s not the sort of thing you hold in high regard, is it?_  he’d spat angrily at her the previous night at dinner.  _Nothing to do with literature, nor music, nor any of your other flimsy pursuits… Learn to appreciate things of true value, Sigyn. You’re too damn needy._

"Yes, of course," Sigyn replied softly now to Kata. "It’s a honor for him. For all of us….Though I suppose if I’m quite honest, I’d just rather like to have this retched ceremony out of the way.”

This particular occasion would differ from recent others, she had no doubt. Theoric was to be one of its main foci, and as such, there were sure to be countless courtiers and old acquaintances to speak with, all of whom would expect her to be positively brimming with pride over her husband’s latest achievement- all on top of the prospect of seeing Loki again.

Since their first meeting he had visited her thoughts more often than she would have liked.  Originally, she had written off such dwellings as the product flattery.

Surely, she had reasoned, anyone who drew such attentions from a prince ought to take compliment in the fact. Lingering thoughts on the encounter were no crime, particularly in light of the fact that she had made her disinterest in his affections very clear.

But since stumbling upon him in the palace library- a misadventure over which she had yet to stop berating herself- it had become evident that he had not been deterred from his goal.

Battle had waged within her when she’d seen him again. This man, who not only thought her to be beautiful but seemed to think she was deserving of love and happiness as well, needed to be pushed from her thoughts. In doing so, however, she felt as though she were accepting her misery all over again.

On occasion, she caught herself imagining what it would be like to be kissed again, to be doted upon and held in someone’s high esteem. Having deduced when precisely it had been that she had caught the prince’s attention, she had gone so far as to ask Kata to arrange her hair for today’s ceremony in the same way she had worn it that night.

Although she could not help but indulge her fantasies a little, she knew it was all futile. Inevitably, it would end in dispair, and it was with this in mind that she had resolved to display nothing but continued disinterest when they met again.

With the placement of a final pin and an examination that seemed to leave her satisfied with her handiwork, Kata turned away from Sigyn’s hair and gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. 

"I’m sure the time will fly by, my lady," she assured her as she pulled Sigyn’s dress for the occasion from the wardrobe. "But we’ll ensure you look beautiful for it, nevertheless."

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Sigyn smiled, turning to face her maid, who was truly one of the kindest souls she’d ever met. “You’ve never let me down yet….”

She rose from the overstuffed seat cushion and allowed Kata to help her into the gown which was a far cry from anything she would have chosen herself. But as ever, she had been too timid to argue with Theoric when he had requested the style in the tailor’s shop. 

Once, she would have pressed the issue without hesitation, pointing out that the neckline was too revealing for her comfort and the embellishment on the skirts rather excessive for her modest taste. In part, wished she were not afraid to say such things, but instead, she had excused her passivity, reminding herself that it was, after all, his day.

"Are you nearly ready?"

She looked up from the fastenings on her shoes to see Theoric himself standing in the doorway to her room.

"I didn’t hear you come up…." she remarked with an pleasant smile. He said nothing, merely looking at her expectantly, waiting for a reply. Her smile froze in place.

"Yes, I just need a moment more," she amended. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, and entered the room, striding towards her.

"Let me see you…." he requested, beckoning for her to stand.

Sigyn quickly slipped on her second shoe and stood, turning to face him. 

His eyes skimmed over the dress, lingering at the neckline that she so abhorred, though she gathered from his expression that his opinion differed from hers. 

His thumb grazed along her jawline as he tilted her chin up, his touch filling her with fresh loathing. Though she didn’t quite meet his eyes, she could feel his examining her. 

Frowning ever so slightly, he froze for a moment, and dropped his hand to her shoulder, forcing her to turn slightly. Before she could wonder what he was doing, he had pulled loose the comb that had been holding most of her hair in place.

"Theoric-!" she protested in shock as her hair cascaded down her back, but he silenced her with a sharp look. He dropped the comb to the floor where it landed with a soft thud.

"It looks lovely like this, Sigyn," he said firmly, tucking a piece of it behind her ear in a manner that bordered on condescending rather than affectionate. Then he sighed heavily. 

"Must you always wear these?" he asked her impatiently, the coarse pads of his fingers fiddling with the pearls that hung from her ears.

"They were a gift from my mother," she reminded him.

"You have others…. Gifts from me," he said pointedly.

"I like these," she replied, surprising herself a little. The catalyst of her sudden gall was hardly a mystery, however. Behind her, she could sense the forlorn gaze of her handmaiden lingering on the pins that now dangled from her hair, threatening to clatter to the ground and join the comb.

Though obviously displeased by her response, Theoric did not press her further. “I trust you will play your role well today,” he said softly, his expectations made clear in his tone. She grew more indignant yet; she had never given him any cause to anticipate any less of her.

"I’m nothing if not a skilled actor," she replied in a flat voice, peering up to meet his eyes. Watching the clear confusion that resulted on his face almost brought her enjoyment. 

Although the meaning of her words appeared to be largely lost on him however, he did seem to pick up on their bitter undertones.

"Don’t be difficult Sigyn," he grunted, turning away from her. 

Realizing too late the damage she’d done, she reached out a hand to his shoulder to stop him, determined to smooth things over. She had no desire for them to begin the evening on poor terms. He shrugged off her hand, however, and strode from the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony for the newly appointed officers was no different from any of the others Loki had attended in his lifetime and was far from enough to hold his attention. As if only to make matters worse, from where he stood on the steps leading to the throne, he his view of Sigyn at the front of the crowd was entirely unobstructed. Making a conscious effort not to look at her, he watched on as her husband received praise from the All Father.

That was, however, until he felt her gaze on him.

Reveling in this reversal of roles, his resolve broke, and, smirking a little, he allowed his eyes to flicker over to her. Whether or not she had meant to glance his way, he hardly cared, but he suspected the former to be the case, as the instant their eyes met she turned quickly to face forward again, blushing.

Loki, too, turned away, but his thoughts lingered on her for the remainder of the proceedings, but at the their end, as the gathering blossomed into a celebration, it was not Theoric’s wife he sought out to congratulate, but the warrior himself.

Approaching the small knot of warriors with whom the newly appointed captain stood, Loki cleared his throat.

Theoric turned, glass in hand, eyes widening marginally when his gaze fell upon Loki before he smiled widely.   _If only your lovely wife had such a favorable reaction to my presence_ , Loki thought sourly.

"Your Highness," Theoric greeted him eagerly, inclining his head. Loki did not return the courtesy, but when he spoke, his tone was more than civil.

"My congratulations, friend," Loki commended him. "This honor is well-deserved. You serve my father well."

The endearment was not lost on Theoric, his pride made evident in his expression. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he replied. “It is my privilege to serve him.”

"I’m sure your wife is proud," Loki said, swiping a glass of wine for himself from a tray borne by a passing servant. As he took a casual sip, he quickly added, "You are married, are you not? I had thought….although I couldn’t be certain…."

"Aye, I am," Theoric replied obligingly. "My wife, Lady Sigyn….I’d introduce you, but I couldn’t say where she’s gone…." He did not seem too troubled by the matter, Loki noted.

"Hmm, she cannot be far," the prince mused, glancing around. "Ah! Is that not her speaking with my mother?" He gestured with the wine glass towards where the two women stood, the younger of whom had her head bowed in respect to the elder.

Theoric followed his gaze. “It is indeed. I fear I may owe my apologies to the queen,” he said with a gruff laugh when he, too, had spotted them. “I’m afraid she’s rather a dull creature, my wife.”

"Is she?" Loki raised a brow at this. "I’d never have guessed it. But, nevertheless, she is….stunning," he added, delivering the compliment as though it were a testament to Theoric.

Theoric gave another churlish guffaw of a laugh. “That much she is, my prince, I’ll admit…. When I’ve retrieved her, I shall introduce her to you, if you are inclined,” he offered. “She would be most eager, I’m sure.”

Loki waved him off. “Do not trouble yourself. You ought to enjoy the celebrations,” he said. “I shall tend to the niceties myself.”

Theoric bowed his thanks, and once more said, “Your Highness,” as Loki raised his glass to him and slipped away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hello again, Sigyn."

Sigyn’s attention was diverted from the queen, with whom she had been speaking, and she looked up sharply at the owner of the new voice. 

Now standing just beside his mother, and dressed in positively resplendent armor that put to shame that of her husband, was Loki, beaming at her as if he expected her to delight in his sudden appearance, when in fact, the sight of him had caused her stomach to drop. But as for the foreign tingle of excitement, the warmth in her cheeks, the acceleration of her pulse…..

None of it had to do with him, she told herself firmly. Perhaps it was the wine…

Though it was Sigyn that Loki had addressed, it was Frigga who replied first. “Darling,” she greeted her son warmly, extending her hand towards him.

"Mother," he replied, capturing the hand and kissing it with a cheeky grin. 

Rolling her eyes at him, she glanced back to Sigyn. “I take it you’ve met before?” Frigga asked.

"Yes, I do believe I have had the pleasure on a number of occasions," Loki said smoothly, turning his attention back to Sigyn with a wink.

"My prince," she greeted him formally. As she bowed her head, she failed to notice the glance Frigga shot in Loki’s direction, filled with silent suspicions, which he determinedly ignored.

As Sigyn straightened, Frigga announced, “Well, I would not intrude. I shall leave you in each other’s company.” Her kind eyes met Sigyn’s once more and, to her surprise, the queen took her hand. 

"I expect to see more of you, my dear," she said earnestly. Sigyn nodded, a rare smile gracing her lips.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you," she said politely.

Frigga gave her hand a squeeze. “And….” she added in an undertone, “if my son misbehaves, do not hesitate to put him in his place.” The mirth with which she spoke was unmistakable, but, nevertheless, she cast Loki a warning glance which he met with wide-eyed innocence.

Rather taken aback by the suggestion in Frigga’s parting remark, the moment Sigyn found herself alone with Loki, she turned to face the crowd rather than him. He followed her suit, saying nothing for a long time. 

He was lacking in neither charm nor looks, Sigyn was forced to remember each time she was faced with his presence. Resentment towards him had been her initial reaction; her instinct. But maintaining a distaste for him was requiring more and more effort. Had she still been relying solely on instinct, she wondered whether she would have already done something she would now regret. 

She began to worry that her extended silence would perturb him or that perhaps he would find her rude, but he did not seem to mind. With no intention of being the first to speak, she merely watched on alongside him as dancing couples spun past.

"Do you dance, Lady Sigyn?" he asked her at last.

"Not if it can be avoided, Your Highness." He looked moderately surprised by this, and she explained herself further before he could raise an enquiry.

"The venture is always said to be a graceful one, but I have never found it to be so."

Loki snorted, downing the remnants of his wine. “That’s because you have the wrong partner, my lady,” he said with a chuckle, casting her a side long glance. At last she looked up at him.

"Excuse me?" The meaning behind his words was clear as day, but she doubted that even he had the gall to explain himself openly. Not for the first time, he surprised her.

"Look at your husband," Loki said, shaking his head and gesturing with his now empty glass to where Theoric stood, laughing raucously with the men surrounding him. "Bulking, brutish, clumsy… In more pursuits, I expect, that just dancing…" Loki added with a knowing smirk, peering over at her once again. She felt her face grow hot. 

"Your Highness, I’ve already told you I don’t -"

"Dance with me, Sigyn," he said suddenly, handing his glass over to a waiting servant as he did.

Struck silent for a moment, Sigyn wet her lips nervously as she took in the request. She allowed herself to consider what she truly wished to reply and immediately dismissed the answer she found. He was setting a trap, and thus far she had successfully avoided it.

"With you…?” 

She gave a tiny shake of her head and looked away. With every word that passed her lips, she felt as though she were letting him in. That smirk of his certainly seemed to suggest that he had no trouble reading her.

"Yes, of course," he said with a smile. "Why not?" 

Her eyes flickered towards where Theoric stood, revealing the source of her hesitation. Loki seemed to notice before she could voice the thought. 

"If he is displeased, you can simply claim that you could not refuse the request of a prince.”

She could feel his eyes boring into her, a sensation with which she was now quite familiar, and, reluctantly, she looked up to meet his gaze.

Theoric could find no fault in it; Loki was right. The only thing preventing her from saying yes was her own uneasiness, and her growing desire to set it aside and relent startled her. She knew that with every moment she spent in his company, every inch she allowed him to come closer, her resolve was wavering, and yet she told herself it was harmless; she was merely being polite.

”Just one,” she consented.

"Of course," he said, holding his hand out her, smiling in his triumph. "Then you shall be free to spend the evening with Theoric…."

She placed her hand lightly in his, an unwelcome spark of excitement stirring within her when they touched. She reminded herself that this was no different from dancing with anyone else, but as he led her onto the floor, catching her up in his arms effortlessly, she felt uncertain.

The long fingers of his left hand rested on her waist, curling around her. She followed his gaze to where his other hand rested beneath hers, suddenly painfully aware of how close he was.

His thumb ghosted up the center of her palm, sending a tingle all the way to the tips of her fingers and a shiver down her spine. She looked away once again.  

"Sigyn," he said quietly, leaning in closer, "you might have to meet my eyes."

Surrendering her last defense against him as she did so, she dragged her gaze back to his. He pulled her closer still, and began to guide her across the floor. Her breath caught at the intensity behind his piercing green eyes, and she knew that if the same emotion were mirrored in her own eyes, it would be unlike anything she had allowed him to see there before.

"It is clearly requiring quite an effort for you to keep me at bay,” he said softly.

"I’m married." No emotion nor true argument was held in her words. She simply stated the fact again, hoping it alone was enough to ward him off.

“Yes, and why is that?” he asked her quietly. Though she knew her lack of response would give her away, she made no attempt to reply. There was nothing she could say.

"He’s your keeper, Sigyn," he whispered into her ear. "I wish to set you free."

Her brows furrowed at the alarming truth in his words, and she bit her lip.  _How can you know what he is?_ she thought desperately.  _Have I opened so revealed myself to you that you can read such things from my face? Things I myself do not wish to think on?_

Never before had she considered a desire to be set free. She’d felt caged and trapped, yes, but she had never dared to search for an escape. 

But now, following him across the floor, each movement just as graceful as he’d promised it would be, with each step she felt lighter than the last. By the nine, if she thought being free would feel anything like dancing with him, she could think of no better way to exist.

”And how do you intend to do that?” she whispered at last. 

Again he smiled as though he knew something he’d yet to share with her. ”Oh, I think you’ll find I am very resourceful when I wish to be….”

Though she had no cause to, she found honesty in his words. She wondered to what lengths he would go for her and suspected the answer would likely surprise her.

“You have to stop,” she said quietly, searching his face. If the fate of his attempted dalliance were left in her hands, she did not know how long she could maintain the pretense of being unaffected by him. 

“I might if I thought it necessary, but you’re doing a marvelous job of resisting me,” he replied softly. “I’d like to see how long that holds.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, the room around them erupted into applause as the music came to a conclusion, bringing her back to the present. 

In his arms, the room around them had melted away in a manner almost dream-like. Now, as he stepped away from her and bowed, she woke.

"My lady,” he said. She sank into a curtsy. When she rose again, he had gone, making his way back towards the stairs to the throne.

Indignation flared inside her, and only when he turned back and smirked in her direction did she realize his play. Both of their previous encounters had ended when she had left him standing alone. 

He was merely repaying the favor.

Operating mainly on what pride she possessed, she returned to Theoric’s side, knowing his company would be relatively dull- a meager substitute after what Loki had just given her a taste of. But she played her part perfectly, just as she always did, full of praises for her husband and smiles for his admirers. 

Though she’d have admitted it to no one, by avidly displaying her devotion to Theoric, she was taunting Loki. She was playing his game, she realized, and when she glanced his way again, the glimmer of mischief in the prince’s eyes told her that now that she had begun, she would have to see it through to the end.


	4. Chapter 3

Sigyn’s eyes flew open suddenly, her breath coming quickly. The room was dark, and having been amidst a dream so vivid she could hardly distinguish it from reality mere seconds ago, she was momentarily disoriented. She blinked once, then again and began to untangle herself from the bedsheets that had become twisted about her legs as she slept. 

Rubbing her eyes with her palms as she sat up, Sigyn let out an audible groan. Even now as she closed her eyes, she could see only one image: the image of a certain prince who had, without fail, visited her every dream since last she had seen him in person. Even in her dreams he taunted her, his eyes glinting as he smirked, brimming with promises she hardly dared to believe and reminding her of all that was out of her reach. It was becoming maddening.

 

The dim light of dawn seeped under the curtains, and the servants could be heard moving through the house from the floor below. Abandoning any notion of returning to sleep, Sigyn slipped from beneath the covers and padded into the powder room where she splashed cool water on her face. 

As she reemerged from the basin, her eyes flickered towards the mirror hanging above it, studying her reflection.

The youth she saw in her own face often startled her. As she drifted from day to idle day, avoiding Theoric and masquerading as a woman content in her role, she imagined herself withering away. For all her efforts, she felt as though she were fooling no one. Surely, when others looked at her, they saw her fatigue; all of her patience used up, all of her laughter dried out. 

But this was not the case, and the evidence was there in the glass, staring back at her, defying all her expectations. Her neck and shoulders were built of long, taunt lines; her bright blue eyes piercing; and her cheeks glowing with a ruddy blush, the sum of which was a vessel that, in her opinion, was an inaccurate illustration of its inhabitant.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she furrowed her brows. Today, as in recent days, the reflection did not seem so ill-fitting. The intensity that shone from her eyes…the unexpected warmth she exuded… They seemed to match what was beginning to brew within her, something that- like her appearance- she did not like to dwell upon. 

She’d done nothing wrong, she knew, and no one, not even Loki, could claim anything otherwise. There were boundaries, and as of yet, she was only inspecting them for weaknesses, but some part of her knew that inevitably, she would begin to push them.

Resigning herself to putting such worries out of her thoughts, Sigyn readied herself for the day. In a fashion now nearly perfected after so many years, she kept to herself, eating breakfast in her bedroom and otherwise occupying herself in the gardens until Theoric left for the training grounds. Some time after she was certain he had gone, she wandered back inside, picking her way through the back parlor and the remarkably barren study, pausing when she came to the drawing room.

She hovered in the doorway, sucking in her lips as she hesitantly eyed the grand piano that sat proudly by the far wall and its open windows. It was more ornamental than a means of recreation in Theoric’s mind. In the early days of their marriage, he’d condemned her playing as ‘insufferable clanging,’ and she’d let the habit die. Today, however, in his absence she found herself sitting at the bench.

The tips of her fingers grazed the ivory, her nails clicking against it. She smiled, letting her eyes fall shut for a moment, inhaling deeply as a warm breeze from the window caressed her skin.

Her eyes opened, and her hands began their way across the keys in an old, familiar melody. She was hesitant at first, half-expecting Theoric to burst in. He did not, and her certainty grew. Her playing, though long neglected, was a skill that had never been entirely forgotten, for she had spent too many years perfecting it. This piece in particular had been engrained into her memory, and she suspected it would never fade.

The wind outside rustled the leaves of the trees, and when she shut her eyes, her childhood home all but materialized around her: the warmth of it, the comfort; her little sister’s shouts and giggles from the back garden as their father chased after her and their mother chastised them. She played just the way she had on such days as those, when nothing truly held any weight for her, despite her mother’s efforts to convince her otherwise, and her only duties were to the page of music before her- she mustn’t miss a single note.

As she transitioned from the first movement to the next, the accompaniment to an aria, her uncertainty returned. Though never the least bit vain, to say that Sigyn had not once been fully aware of the beautiful voice she was fortuitous enough to have would be untruthful. Her pride in the well-honed talent had been justly merited.

However, Theoric’s disapproval of her playing extended to her singing as well, and his criticisms had been the seed of what had grown into a flourishing doubt of her talent. Even with him miles away, the possibility that any one at all might hear her voice filled her stomach with jitters and an odd sense of anxiety. 

Yet as her entrance approached, she collected herself- another of her skills. She’d long since grown tired of timidity, and she was determined not to allow the accursed trait take this from her: the art she so loved and the skills she had so long elected to keep hidden. 

Her voice filled the room, the sound clear and warm as the day outside. She found herself smiling a little. Despite lack of practice, each phrase came just as she willed it to. In her solitude,  her anxieties became silly, and the music ushered her into a safe place, embracing her and washing away all else from her mind, if only temporarily.

"My lady?” asked an apprehensive voice from behind her.

Her mouth clamped shut, and she stood quickly. Her hands clasped behind her and cheeks pink as she turned away from the piano and toward the speaker, Theoric’s housekeeper, Maeva.

“Yes?”

“Forgive the intrusion, but there’s a man here asking for you…” the housekeeper explained apologetically.

"For me?” Sigyn repeated, frowning. “Not one of Lord Theoric’s friends?” she prompted, wanting the name of the visitor.

"No, my lady.” Maeva shook her head. “I don’t think so…. I’ve never seen him here before.” Sigyn waited but received no further explanation. She frowned. 

“Well, if you don’t know him, then I don’t think…”

“Oh no, my lady, I… I know who it is,” Maeva cut in, and Sigyn closed her mouth once more. “I’ve just never seen him before. And I can’t think why he’s here—” She seemed to catch on to Sigyn’s impatience, and, after an almost nervous glance back over her shoulder, explained quietly, “It’s the prince, my lady.”

Sigyn’s breath caught.

“Prince Loki?” she asked just as softly, and Maeva, though clearly surprised that Sigyn had guessed correctly, nodded.

“Oh…” said Sigyn slowly. She drew a steadying breath, reminding herself that there ought not to be anything between her and Loki, but the message did not seem to reach her respiratory system nor her heart, both of which were working at a notably faster pace than they had been mere moments ago. “Show him in, if you please.”

"Yes, my lady,” the maid replied, bowing her head and returning to the entry hall.

Sigyn moved to the window as she listened to the footfalls that carried Maeva away, the sound of her voice soon following. The voice that replied was far deeper and positively unmistakable, and within moments, the same voice spoke from behind her.

“You have been very well taught,” it said. Sigyn’s face grew hot as she realized he had overheard her. Gathering her wits, she turned slowly to see him standing in the doorway. He almost seemed out of place, the stately manner with which he held himself far grander than that of any other man who had ever entered the room.

“It’s a beautiful talent to possess,” said Loki, tilting his head towards the piano when she did not reply. Her gaze followed his towards the instrument, and she moved unthinkingly forward, resting her tightly clasped hands on its polished lid. Though now closer to him as a consequence, the piano continued to act as a barrier between them.

”Thank you, Your Highness,” she said with an edge of skepticism. Searching his face, she saw nothing to suggest that he was anything less than genuinely impressed, and she unclenched her hands.

He inclined his head in response. ”I did not know you sang,” he remarked with intrigue, coming further into the room, scanning it with an unreadable expression.

“Oh no, I don’t,” she said quickly.  His brows raised, mouth opening to argue and she hastily added, “I mean….I do of course.” An uneasy cough. “But not often.”

He said nothing, nor did he look to have any intention of doing so. He simply looked at her for an elongated moment, not quizzically, not scrutinizingly, but with a soft smile, as though transfixed by her. Sigyn’s gaze softened as she looked back. 

“Might I ask why not?” he inquired suddenly.

Sigyn let out a singular laugh, and looked away. “Lord Theoric,” she explained regretfully, though managing to keep any undertones of bitterness out of her voice, “finds it distasteful.”

Loki snorted, wearing an expression that made it quite clear what he found distasteful… or rather whom. 

"Does he indeed?” he scoffed, glancing around them once again. ”And where is your shining warrior today?” he asked her with a little smirk.

"Theoric isn’t here," she said lightly. The pause that followed lingered only long enough for another possible connotation of his words to set in, and she quickly added, ”If that’s what you’re asking, of course."

"Of course,” Loki assured her, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I cannot imagine what other meaning you could have derived from my words…” he said slowly, looking at her pointedly.

Repressing a smile, she looked down to where her hands rested on the piano.

"I do not wish to be impolite,” she said, drumming her fingers on the lacquered wood, “but I daresay you did not come all this way to discus the whereabouts of my husband."

"How incredibly perceptive of you,” he replied with a chuckle. His smile fading slowly, he observed her unabashedly for another long moment, and this time, Sigyn felt herself flush. 

"There is no doubt in my mind that you already know the reason I am here,” he said finally.

The peculiarity of his forwardness struck her, but she ought to have expected nothing less. Their dynamic had changed drastically now. Despite all her efforts to display indifference, she had, with a number of irretrievable remarks at the promotion ceremony, betrayed her inclination towards him, and as a result, left herself not only vulnerable, but hovering dangerously on the line of infidelity.

"If I didn’t know better, my prince, I’d say you’d simply come to see me,” Sigyn replied softly, the idea becoming all the more real as she spoke it aloud, filling her with equal parts fear and exhilaration.

“Ah,” Loki said with a growing smile as he took a step closer, wagging a finger at her, “but you do know better…And you know that is  _exactly_  why I’m here.” 

She said nothing, and he pressed on.

"You seem remarkably unvexed by it, I must say,” he observed, voice brimming with mirth.  "Are you not irritated by me today, Sigyn?” he teased her, his voice dropping an octave and his eyes glinting playfully.

A laugh bubbled to her lips, and she made no attempt to repress it. In a way, it startled her that he could so drolly acknowledge the exasperation he had come to expect from her, and she found the slight admittedly funny. It was impossible to resent it.

She wet her lips, carefully considering her words. “Far less so than I have been in the past, my prince,” she settled upon, still grinning. “Undoubtedly an effect of your tact and subtleness,” she added with blatant sarcasm.

His teasing tone took after hers as he replied, ”I shall take note,” giving a little bow of his head, failing to entirely hide the look of gratification on his face for which she could not account. 

Straightening up, he asked suddenly, ”I don’t suppose you’ve finished the book I gave you the day we spoke in the library?”

Sigyn’s brows raised. “Have you come to ensure I bring it back?”

"Well, I wouldn’t want you to be accused of theft," he responded facetiously. ”I’m acting only out of goodwill towards you.”

“Ohhh…” she said, smiling. ”Be that the case, you have my thanks… Although, I might add that I never realized the duties of a prince were so akin to those of a librarian.”

The repartee flowed with astounding ease from both participates. For the second time that afternoon, Sigyn felt like her younger self, catching momentary flickers of the carefree nature that ought to typify a woman of her age, something with which she wondered if she would be more familiar had she never married.

"Did you not?” Loki replied with faux indignation. “And here I’d imagined you to be a woman of extensive knowledge.” He smirked at her. “I suppose there’s room for all of us to learn…"

Sigyn rolled her eyes. ”I’m afraid I’ve not yet finished it, my prince, but I’ll be certain to return it when I have.”

"The text was a study of the nine worlds,” mused Loki.  "If I remember correctly, that is,” he added, looking to her for confirmation.

"Yes, that is correct,” she replied. “A study of the variations in culture."

Humming in thought, he tapped a long finger to his lips before posing a sudden question that both surprised and enlivened her. 

“What do you know of the music of the realms?”

"Some, your highness," she answered, a genuine smile gracing her face. “The subject was one of interest in my childhood studies,” she explained.

Nodding, his eyes left her, flickering towards the piano. Once again, he surprised her.

”May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the instrument. Disconcerted, she shrugged a little, giving a nod. 

He wasted no time in settling himself in the seat Sigyn had occupied upon his arrival. As she watched, he positioned his nimble fingers over the keys, and looked up to meet her eyes, raising his brows at her and grinning in a manner she’d have labeled conceited if she had not, in the next moment, heard him play.

His hands danced across the ivory, coaxing from it a tune that stirred an indistinct memory for her, and she wondered at the finesse with which he played. Eyes wide, she stepped closer so as to better observe.

"Is this familiar to you?”

Sigyn tore her gaze away from his hands to see he was still looking at her. Biting her lip, she considered his question, and replied, “Vaguely….”

“It is of Muspelheim,” he informed her.

She listened a moment longer then began to hum along hesitantly, eyes flickering to his for validation. Loki chuckled and nodded.

His tune shifted almost imperceptibly, transitioning seamlessly into a traditional Asgardian carol. “And this one?”

“Of course,” she grinned. “Everyone knows that one.” With little forethought, she found herself singing along. His eyes returned to hers as her voice carried through the air, the smile he offered her so dazzling she forgot her embarrassment.

Loki watched her unwaveringly, continuing to play until, with a slightly smug look as Sigyn faltered, he switched his melody again, this time to an old lyric from Alfheim. Immediately, she recognized it from her studies, and it was her turn to feel smug as she joined in again, laughter coloring her voice as it filled the room until, abruptly, it was cut short by a far more grating sound.

“Sigyn!” it barked from the entry hall, and she whirled around, eyes wide with panic as the playing behind her ceased.

An irritable looking Theoric strode through the door, and her heart began to pound in her ears. “I think that is quite enough, don’t you?” he said tightly.

Sigyn’s mouth fell open but no sound came out. There was no excuse to be given. How foolish, she thought miserably, to think herself capable of keeping anything hidden.

In an effort to construe any semblance of an explanation, she glanced desperately back at Loki…. only to find him gone.

She blinked once, and then again, staring at the empty seat where not a moment ago the prince of the realm had sat, laughing and playing, and very much present.

"Have you gone hard of hearing?” Theoric ground out impatiently, and she looked back to him blankly. “Get your round little self away from that bloody thing,” he snapped, glaring at the piano as if it were at fault.

Sigyn looked away from him, mortification seeping together with her anger. Any mirth in her eyes was gone, her shields returning in lieu of the prince to whom she had revealed herself; having made herself vulnerable, Theoric’s words stung all the more, and she desperately hoped that whatever had become of Loki, wherever he had gone, he could not hear the conversation.

As she moved silently towards the door opposite the one her husband loomed in, he snorted in agitation and turned away, muttering something she caught only pieces of.

“Blasted noise…. insufferable…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Absently, Sigyn’s forefinger dragged across the embroidery of the duvet cover as she lay atop it, her gaze fixed out her bedroom windows, curtains still wide open though night had long since settled over the city. 

Almost everything in sight seemed to sparkle: the dazzling light emitting from the Bifrost in the distance; the endless expanse of the universe passing overhead, galaxies twinkling, whole worlds spinning; but nothing shone so much as the towering palace that loomed over Asgard. As she took in the sight, her thoughts returned to Loki once again.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and she sat up quickly. Having dismissed Kata for the evening, her thoughts leapt frantically to the worst possible conclusion.

Hesitantly, she called out, “Come in,” and as the door swung forwards, her handmaiden peered around it. Sigyn expelled a sigh of relief.

“Oh, Kata…” she said, ushering her in with a shaky smile. “I did not expect you.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” the maid said, shutting the door behind her. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she added sympathetically, no doubt knowing exactly where Sigyn’s thoughts had gone.

Sigyn shook her head dismissively, getting to her feet. “It’s alright,” she assured her. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“No, my lady,” said Kata, shaking her head. “Only, one of the maids found this downstairs… In the piano bench, I think she said.” 

She presented Sigyn with a well-worn book. She examined it, frowning a little; it was entirely unfamiliar to her, but she couldn’t see what about it the maids had deemed unusual.

Gingerly, she cracked opened the front cover, and Kata hastened to add, “It seems to belong to—” 

Before she could finish, however, Sigyn spotted the inscription, handwritten on the first page, and Kata fell silent.

_Property of Loki Odinson_

“Well….it seems to have been misplaced,” Kata murmured.

Sigyn nodded slowly, her pulse quickening as she brushed a finger over the letter. “Yes, it would appear so. Thank you, Kata. I will see that it’s returned,” she assured her, looking up. 

Taking her cue to leave, the maid bowed her head and had started towards the door when Sigyn spoke again. 

“One more thing?” 

Kata looked back expectantly. 

“If you would….” said Sigyn, beseechingly. “There’s no need to tell Lord Theoric about this.”

“Yes, my lady,” the girl said softly, nodding her understanding. She disappeared into the corridor.

Still examining the book, Sigyn sank back onto the bed, riffling through the pages. As she flipped through, something came loose and fell to the coverlet. Brows drawn together, she set the book aside and picked up the thick parchment envelope that had been pressed between the pages. On the front of it, her name had been scrawled in the same hand as the name in the cover of the book. Turning the envelope over in her hands, she cracked the emerald green seal and unfolded the paper inside, lying back as she read.

_Sigyn,_

_Forgive me for leaving when I did. I thought it best not to be discovered. Unfortunately, I  consequently did not get a chance to give you this. It’s something I had concluded might strike your fancy. It too examines the cultures of other the worlds, but in a narrower light. You’ll find it contains some of the most widely known myths and legends of each realm, as well as some poetry and written music. It’s a personal favorite._

_If you’ll allow me, there is somewhere I would like to take you. Judging by the asinine comments made by your husband upon his arrival this afternoon, I would wager that you’ve never been. Or if you have, that it was many years ago. It would be my privilege to share it with you. I can assure you that I will go to every length to ensure we are not seen together. I have no wish to cause a disturbance in your life._

_The evening after next, the presence of the Crimson Hawks is required at an assemblage of ambassadors. If you care to, meet me in the palace courtyard at dusk. Attire is formal._

_I hope to see you soon._

Sigyn stared at the paper long after she’d read the final word. Finally, she refolded in and set it aside, unable to make sense of her thoughts. 

By accepting his invitation, she would be betraying her husband. Thus far, she had done nothing shameful; no one could accuse her of disloyalty. But this would be different.

She brought her hand to her eyes, rubbing her temples. As her eyes shut, it was not Theoric’s face that came into view; it never had been, and it never would be. She knew it was nothing more than the remnants of childish fantasies that stirred in her the desire for the elusive thrill and excitement that Loki embodied, but the knowledge in no way lessened her longing.

Before him, only logic had ruled her for many years. Since her initial disappointment in Theoric, no one had tempted her and nothing had swayed her opinion of the nonentity that was the notion of love. It was only after the introduction of the chaotic prince in her life that she’d begun to question. 

Perhaps she’d not given up all sentimentality, but had needed the right person to coax such things back to the surface. And now, it only remained for her to ascertain the extent of her honor; she feared it would prove to be far weaker than she’d ever have known had it remained untested.

With a sigh, she burrowed beneath her bed covers, curling up on her side and turning through his book. She soon discovered it not only to be well-worn, but annotated by its owner; phrases he had deemed of significance had been underlined, the occasional verse starred, and she drifted to sleep smiling, feeling less alone in her inveterate solitude.


	5. Chapter 4

The steady click of a woman’s shoes reached Loki’s ears first, followed by the rustling of skirts, but he did not yet stir from the stone bench on which he sat, situated under the cover of cherry blossoms. As the steps drew nearer, his certainty grew, but he reminded himself firmly that, in all likelihood, it was not Sigyn at all but rather someone else, and his craving for her company only intensified.

He couldn’t help but imagine an evening spent with her. To be allowed such an expanse of time together seemed too glad a notion to be true- listening to her voice, studying her every move, coaxing secrets from her….

 

No sooner than his pen had written the request for Sigyn to join him tonight, however, Loki had begun to brace himself for disappointment. Even if he occupied her thoughts a fraction of the amount of time she did his, he suspected that the very idea of Theoric was enough to keep her away. He had known from that start that his pursuit of a married woman left him vulnerable to rejection. She was after all, he thought with a smile, a woman of fine breeding and the highest class. 

“My prince,” said a soft voice behind him. 

He smiled triumphantly.

“I have a name, you know,” he said as he rose. “I think it’s time you started calling me by it.” 

As he turned to face Sigyn, the breath was swept from his lungs. With her silhouette set against the glow of the dying daylight, she herself seemed to emit light. Her dark hair was pinned up, displaying to full advantage the beautiful lines of her neck that Loki so revered. The few curls left intentionally unbound around her face caught the light, appearing more red than those twisted back. She burned as brightly as the hungry fires that raged within him.

“You are stunning,” he said earnestly, and Sigyn smiled, putting the beauty of the gardens surrounding them to shame. 

He suspected the gowns he’d seen her in previously had all been chosen to suit Theoric’s tastes. Tonight, however, the tide of gently flowing skirts ruffling around her in the cool evening air was every bit as striking as any other, yet far better suited to her. Loki could not help but find himself partial to the sheer bodice of the dress, its floaty, sea-foam green material hugging her body perfectly. He vaguely wondered whether the color choice had been a conscious decision, and his smile broadened.

“Thank you,” Sigyn responded graciously. “May I ask where you’re taking me?”

Loki chuckled. “You may,” he replied. “I won’t answer, however. Not just yet.” Grinning slyly, he offered his arm to her. “Shall we?” 

She accepted it, and they started off.

“I must say, I wondered whether you would make an appearance this evening,” remarked Loki as they walked. “Surely this constitutes some level of infidelity.” He had no wish to be indelicate, but he longed to know her mind.

She frowned a little. “Not necessarily. I suppose it depends upon where you’re taking me.” As if to make her point, she glanced around, frowning in disconcertion at the buildings towering above them on either side of the road he’d led her down. It was truly little more than an alley.

Brimming with barely concealed amusement, he led her to a back door of one of the buildings. “Through here,” he informed her, his vague reply met by an exceedingly dubious frown from Sigyn.

“Oh, do trust me, won’t you?” he entreated, holding the door open for her. “I truly think you’ll like it.”

Though she seemed to take him at his word, as she entered the building she retorted, “Well if you were to enlighten me, I might be the judge of that for myself.”

Close behind her, he shook his head in disbelief of her stubbornness. As he shut the door, thereby cloaking them in darkness, he felt her shift closer to him, and he smiled. With a wave of his hand, light flooded the space, illuminating a narrow set of stairs. As he pressed on, Loki slipped his hand into Sigyn’s, pulling her behind him, as the steps were unable to accommodate the pair side by side.

“Not one for surprises, are you?” he speculated as they ascended.

“No, not particularly,” came her soft reply. 

They climbed on in momentary silence. Just as Loki’s silver tongue conceived another sly remark, he met sudden resistance from her. He looked back to find her frozen in place, hand still clasped in his but looking very much as though she were considering tugging away and fleeing. Rather alarmed, he returned to her quickly.

“My husband….” she explained in a murmur before he could ask, shaking her head as panic and doubt etched themselves into her features.

The need to console and hearten her overwhelmed him. “Sigyn. It’s alright,” he assured her, gently gripping her shoulders. As she looked up at him, his hands lifted off her again; he would not keep her if she truly wished to leave, yet he would not abandon hope that his words might still convince her. “It really is,” he whispered. “You have done nothing immoral.” 

He lifted her chin, smiling reassuringly. “Though now that I think on it, you really ought to,” he teased softly. “You should think of yourself on occasion.” 

She let out a shaky laugh and nodded. Her next words surprised him:

“Why do you think I’m here?” 

His eyes searched hers, wishing he could derive more from them. Gently he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. 

As he did, she flooded his senses unexpectedly: her scent, warm and intoxicating, washing over him as he inhaled, her soft curls tickling his lips, her wondering gaze burning through him. They were suspended for a moment, inches apart. Then, before the ability to do so could escape him entirely, he drew back.

“Come…” he said softly, offering his hand, and to his relief, her fingers slid into his. Once again they climbed, neither pausing nor speaking until they reached the top, where a very plain door stood in wait for them.

“After you,” he said gallantly. Sigyn’s curiosity still unsated, she approached this door with less trepidation than the last. She pulled back the door to reveal a rich burgundy curtain hindering their further progress. Sigyn observed it for a moment. 

“Well, you were quite right,” she said decidedly. “This was well worth the climb.” 

Laughing heartily, he stepped forward, poised to draw the drapery aside.

“Is it not?” he teased. “For its splendors alone, I’d have made the journey. However, I suspect you shall find what lies beyond it all the more pleasing.” 

With that, he pushed it back, and guided her to the other side.

“Oh!…” she breathed, her heart beating in double time as she gazed about the room in which they emerged. It could not have been in higher contrast to the gloom of the stairwell they had left behind, its carpets plush beneath her feet and its paneled walls beautifully patterned. Her fingers grazed over the highly polished wood of the counter that ran along the wall to her left. To her other side, there was a door through which, she suspected, one would normally enter the room. 

Directly ahead was another curtain, this one stitched with shimmering gold thread. Hearing the distinct buzz of conversation through it, Sigyn’s curiosity drove her forward to peer through the curtain, and as the sight beyond blossomed into view, she discovered that they were in no ordinary room at all, but rather a private theatre box.

Breathlessly, her eyes raked over the hundreds of people milling about their seats below, unaware of the illicit couple above them. As her attention turned to the stage, Sigyn sighed aloud in wonder. She had no words to do the enormity of it justice, yet it accounted for only a fraction of the theatre’s grandeur. Looking up, she became enraptured by the crystal chandelier hanging from the intricately painted ceiling above, oblivious to Loki’s amusement in watching her.

“Drink?” his voice asked.

She looked round to see him standing by the counter and holding a bottle of champagne. “Oh… yes, thank you,” she replied graciously. He nodded obligingly, pouring out and handing her a flute of the golden elixir.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re here for?” she pressed, though she now had a fairly good idea.

“Symphony,” he replied casually, smirking. “Been recently?”

Sigyn shook her head, the corners of her lips curling up in barely contained excitement.

“Shame. I do hope you don’t mind sitting here,” he said, gesturing around them. “But for the sake of discretion, it will have to do….”

As she scanned the lavishly decorated interior of the box once again, she became quite certain that it was intended for the royal family’s particular use. “Braggart,” she laughed.

“Careful,” he chuckled in reply. “If you’re still operating under the pretense that there is nothing between us, we’d best adhere to a certain level of respect.”

“Is there no middle ground?” she asked, brows raised. “Surely we can merely be familiar with one another.”

“Oh, certainly,” he agreed, sipping his drink. “Though you might want to stop addressing me so formally.”

Sigyn shook her head, marveling at his stubbornness. “Maybe,” she replied for the second time. Though she could not say why precisely, the notion of calling him by his name unnerved her. She suspected that, were she to give in to his wishes, each time she spoke it would serve as a sharp reminder of the treacherous nature of her heart.

Around them, the lights began to dim, and he led her to a couch situated just in front of the rail of the box.

“Please,” said Loki, gesturing for her to sit.

Upon doing so, she was joined immediately by him. She could not help but note the difference in their postures. A long surviving habit, she sat straight-backed with her hands folded neatly in her lap. He, however, dropped to the couch beside her, reclining comfortably, his feet planted so far apart it was almost indecent. He rested his right arm along the back of the seat, angling himself towards her. In the darkness of the theatre, she was suddenly very aware of how close his body was to hers.

As the curtain rose and the musicians filed out, her eyes stayed firmly on the stage, but she could feel his eyes resting on her. Politely, she clapped along with the rest of the audience as he leaned down to speak into her ear.

“I’m glad you came,” he said, his warm breath tickling her neck. Her own breath caught, and a thrill shot down her spine. 

“Me too,” she whispered back, and he smiled.

The performance passed all too quickly for Sigyn’s liking. Almost as soon as it began, her preoccupation with the intimate setting became a thing of the past, her focus shifting instead the remarkably talented musicians below. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be a part of something so powerful. Simply being present filled her with such incredible joy, waves of frisson washing through her and carrying her out of her seat as the music swelled around them. 

By no means was the experience personal or unique to her- quite the opposite, for there were hundreds of others in the audience- but there was a strange vulnerability in the emotion that the music somehow carried, a rawness that Sigyn found inherently terrifying and altogether thrilling. By the end of the final movement, she held her hands pressed together, covering her nose and mouth both in awe and an attempt to conceal the moisture welling in her eyes.

As the lights rose, the room surged into applause, and Sigyn let out a low, steadying breath. Loki turned to her, expectantly awaiting her reaction only to find her speechless. Chuckling, he rose, dropping a handkerchief into her lap and striding past her. Although she caught it, she collected herself decidedly and placed the scrap of silk aside in as unaffected a manner as possible, unwilling to allow her emotions to betray her.

Loki shook his head as he refilled their glasses, standing once again at the counter,. “Your determination to shield yourself from others borders on impressive,” he commended, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, forgive me for saying so, but I find that rather rich coming from you,” she scoffed, getting to her feet and leaning over the railing. She watched as the crowd below dispersed through the exits until she suddenly caught sight of her sister’s husband, Lukas, whom she knew to be a patron of this theatre. She drew back into the box at once, chastising herself for negligence. 

“I most certainly will not forgive you,” said Loki as he reappeared at her side, replacing the glass in her hand. His words sent a jolt of panic through her; she’d not thought she’d said anything that could be perceived offensive, but perhaps….

“I will not because there is no need for it,” Loki explained, smirking a little as Sigyn expelled a sigh of relief, feeling rather foolish.

“Now please, go on,” he said encouragingly, sprawling lazily on the couch once again and looking up at her. “I was being a hypocrite…?”

The corners of Sigyn’s lips turned up. Though she knew him merely to be angling for her opinion of him, she found that she was not unwilling to oblige.

“Are you not our Prince of Lies?” she posed. She shook her head incredulously. “For you of all people to accuse me of keeping too much concealed….”

He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“All the same,” he replied evenly, “I believe there to be a difference between the enjoyment of one’s privacy and the erasure of one’s opinions and interests in an attempt to appease another.”

She swallowed and looked down, giving a self-deprecating hum of agreement. 

Loki’s expression shifted from one of amusement to uncertainly. Standing trepidatiously once again, he said, “I do not mean to be insensitive.”

She shook her head dismissively. “No, it’s not that. I should not complain,” she said firmly, handing her glass of still untasted champagne back to him, offering him a soft smile. “Not in the least to you.”

Turning, he studied the now-empty house seats below them with acute concentration. “Sigyn, I have no objection to hearing what you have to say,” he stated plainly. Glancing back at her, he added, “I would not be here if I did.”

Uncertain what to make of this, she sighed, sinking to the couch in his absence.

“In truth, beyond what I have built to appease another, I hardly know myself. There is little more of me to discover, and I suspect, when you realize that, I shall prove a horrible disappointment to you.”

She wished her voice were steadier or at least stronger than a whisper. Eyes locked firmly on her lap, she remained oblivious to his gaze as it returned to her.

“Sigyn,” said Loki, his tone bordering on exasperation. “Even if you were to try to disappoint me, I doubt you would find the endeavor successful.”

“You don’t know that.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at her. “My dear, I am not under the delusion that you are without flaws, nor would I ever wish you to be.”

Sigyn nearly laughed at the absurdity of this remark. Surely he, of all people, was accustomed to having things exactly how he liked. As she considered him, her astonishment turned to scrutiny.

“Then what would you wish me to be?” she asked skeptically, unable to imagine any favorable answer.

“Whatever you find yourself inclined to become,” he said with a bare chuckle, defying her expectations. “That’s for you to concern yourself with. And in the meantime, I shall continue to dwell on a different matter entirely until it is resolved.” His smile was back, this time seeming to suggest indecent implications in his words.

“And what is that?” Sigyn inquired.

“I’m certain you know,” he replied, his deep voice sending her stomach into knots. “I have made no secret of my desire for you.”

Against her wishes, her stomach fluttered wildly at these words. “You haven’t done a very good job of concealing it,” she said sheepishly.

“I’m afraid not,” he conceded willingly. “But I am- perhaps foolishly- beginning to think that your initial disdain for me has been replaced by something else.”

She nodded slowly; she could no longer see any purpose to deny it. “Something I’m afraid of,” she confessed.

“Fair enough,” he said, smiling widely. He rose and offered her his hand. “Come. Everyone has gone and anyone remaining can easily be frightened away. I want to show you around.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passed in a blur for Sigyn, when at last they emerged from the theatre, they found the stars blocked from sight by a cover of ominous clouds. Her efforts to dissuade Loki from walking her home were met with point blank refusal, and no sooner had they started off did the sky burst, drenching them completely within seconds. 

Their leisurely pace turned to a mad dash down a series of back roads as Loki held his cloak above both their heads in a fruitless effort to keep them dry. By the time they neared her house, her dress was soaked through, and she was growing increasingly certain of his gaze upon her chest. The dress had been sheer to begin with; she did not dare to assess the state of it now.

“You should leave me here,” she said, coming to a halt and glancing down the street.

He frowned. “There’s still a block more to go—” he protested, raising his voice so as to be heard over the rain.

She looked up, smiling a little. “I know, but I think it’s best.”

His confliction on the matter clear, he cast his gaze towards her home. “Perhaps you’re right,” he replied in defeat. 

For a moment, neither made to move away. Again, his gaze strayed unmistakably lower, then quickly back to her face. Smiling sheepishly, he reached out a hand and pushed back a strand of hair that had become plastered across her cheek. His hand lingered, his expression growing softer. But for all the wonders of her evening with him, they were approaching territory she was not yet ready to stray into. Hastily, she drew away, breaking the spell.

“Good night, Loki,” she said with a small smile.

Though momentarily taken aback at her sudden retreat, he recovered quickly. “Now, was that so hard?” he teased, her use of his name not lost on him.

She laughed and withdrew from the cover of his cloak. She gasped the instant the rain hit her skin, and dashed across the road, her feet carrying her towards the warmth and dry of her bed despite her inclination to stay with Loki. She spared but a single glance back at the silhouette of the prince standing on a darkened street corner, and shaking her head in disbelief, she hurried home.

Never until the matter was of pressing importance, however, had Sigyn considered the possibility of the servants’ entrance being locked. Her elation melted away as she stood in an ever growing puddle, her gown dripping steadily as she struggled with the stubborn knob. As it became clear that she could not force the door open, she took a step back, filling with dread. 

Just as she was considering running after Loki for assistance, the kitchen light flickered on, the crack beneath the door suddenly illuminated. Sigyn’s blood ran cold, and she pressed her back against the stone facade of the house, filled with the sudden realization that she would prefer to stay in the rain all night than to be caught.

“Is someone there?” came a hesitant voice from the other side of the door, and Sigyn expelled a breath of relief.

“Kata,” she hissed, moving back to the door and jiggling the knob once more to express her urgency. “It’s me. Let me in.”

There was a gasp of surprise and fumbling with the lock, and the door was wrenched open. 

“My lady?” Kata breathed, eyes wide as she took in Sigyn’s state. She quickly ushered her inside. “What—?”

“Never mind, just help me,” Sigyn replied, teeth chattering.

Kata nodded anxiously. “Dress off,” she instructed. “Leave it there and I’ll put it in the laundry… Let me get you a towel.”

Sigyn nodded, grateful for the handmaiden’s lack of questions. She stripped down to her corset and underskirt as Kata dashed off, returning within moments.

“I thought you were upstairs,” she stammered, wrapping a thick towel around Sigyn’s shoulders.

Sigyn found the conclusion the maid had arrived at unsurprising, as she had urged Kata to take the night off. “Not exactly,” she murmured.

“But, His Lordship…. he’s not with you, is he? I could have sworn he had gone to bed…”

Sigyn shook her head. “I do not doubt that he has. I was at my sister’s and lost track of time….” she said simply. “But I do not think Theoric would be very pleased to hear about this,” she added, trusting Kata would have the discretion not to say anything. The maid nodded, and handed her a second towel.

“You said he’s asleep?” asked Sigyn.

“Yes, my lady.”

Sigyn nodded, and as the fear that had so quickly risen in her dissipated, the blissful memories of her night came flooding back in their stead. 

When the concert hall had emptied, Loki had procured a key from the house manager, assuring the man that he need not stay, that he himself would ensure that everything was locked upon his departure. Left to their own devices, Loki and Sigyn had explored every corner of theatre together: rehearsal rooms, vast corridors, the glittering foyer meant to be seen upon arrival, even the stage itself. Though each was greater than the next, none compared to the splendor of his company and of his wit; she found he could inspire laughter in her in such a way as nothing had in years.

Again now, a giggle escaped her lips, and the hand she raised to conceal her smile made only a passive attempt. Kata straightened, looking at her oddly.

“Is… that alright?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Yes, of course,” Sigyn assured her, gathering her composure quickly. “I would expect no different. I just…” She shrugged, smiling once again. “I had a nice night, that’s all.”

If Kata suspected anything, she either gave no sign of it or simply resigned herself to not knowing. The corners of her lips simply turned up a little, and she said, “Well, in that case, let us not spoil it. Come, we’ll get you to bed without anyone knowing.”

Following her, Sigyn gratefully whispered, “Thank you, Kata.”

“Never mind, my lady,” Kata whispered back. “There’s no need to thank me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For her inability to put her mind at rest, Sigyn hardly slept at all. When at last she decided to admit defeat at the breaking of dawn, she rose from her bed. Simple as it would be to spend the morning clear of Theoric, as was her practice, in light of her recent transgressions, the notion of joining him for breakfast soothed her conscience like a balm.

Theoric did not look up upon Sigyn’s entrance into the dining room. In a moment of doubt, she took his silence to express his dismay. Perhaps, she worried, he had seen her sneak into her bedroom at the unseemly hour of her return.

As she drew nearer, however, she realized his rapt attention was focused upon a letter in his hand, and when he at last looked up from it, it was with a surprisingly cheerful smile.

“Good morning,” Sigyn said brightly, joining him at the table. If his spirits were high, she had every intention of ensuring that they remained so.

Brandishing the letter in his hand merrily, he decidedly replied, “That it is.”

Her brows raised, wondering what in Valhalla his letter could contain that had so altered his disposition. Smiling encouragingly, she asked, “What’s happened?”

Again, he waved the paper before her. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, and when she shook her head, he handed it to her, pressing forward in explanation without pause.

“As captain of his guard, Odin may occasionally invite me dine at his table. And what you hold in your hands, dear, is one such invitation.”

She quickly scanned the letter, her smile broadening as she did so. “That’s wonderful, Theoric,” she extolled.

As she replaced the invitation in its envelope, he patted her hand in a rather uncertain way, but his confidence recovered quickly. “We are to attend tomorrow night.”

She looked up sharply, panic twisting through her gut. Fixing her countenance into one of normalcy, she asked, “We?” 

The snort her query was met with told her plainly of its foolishness. “Yes, naturally,” he replied, voice dripping with mockery. “Would you have me sit at the All Father’s table unescorted?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, of course not!” she replied lightly, though her stomach was still churning. Whilst Theoric’s focus was no doubt on the prospect of dining with the king, it was the doubtless presence of his son that worried Sigyn. From what she knew of Loki, he would not pass up such an opportunity to torment her and beguile her husband.

“I simply misunderstood,” said Sigyn in as calm a manner as possible. “I did not realize the invitation was for—“

With an impatient sigh, Theoric cut her off. “This is of the utmost importance, Sigyn,” he said with a tone one might use with a child. “Understand that it must go without a hitch.”

“I do understand,” she replied earnestly. “Fear not; it will be perfect.”

“I have no fears regarding the matter,” he replied in a hard voice. “Unless you see any reason I ought to.” She shook her head again, and he nodded, reassured.

“You need only to stun them with your beauty,” he chuckled, his expression softening as he lifted his hand, thick fingers cupping her cheek. Sigyn stiffened under his touch.

“You can help me decide on a gown,” she offered, hoping to divert his attention from the plain discomfort resulting from his attempted endearments; her request, she suspected, would please him. 

He scoffed, lounging back in his chair, dropping his hand and glowering at her in ridicule. “Most women would be able to make it through such an occasion without guidance, you know,” he said, laughing in a manner far too patronizing for Sigyn’s liking. Her smile faltered.

“Well, I just thought you’d like—”

“Oh, by the nine, Sigyn!” Theoric burst, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his breakfast. “Don’t take everything so seriously.”

Sigyn sighed, stifling her distress and eating in silence, coming to realize as she did that, while it was not altogether impossible to imagine herself finding her voice once more and laying aside her attempts to constantly appease Theoric, finding the courage to do so was a different matter entirely. 

The scraping of his chair against the floor and the clatter of his fork onto his empty plate drew her gaze up once again.

“Are you going out tonight?” she asked him curiously as he made towards the door without a glance in her direction. Her voice, however, gave him pause.

He looked back, regarding her silently for a moment. For an instant, she saw something peculiar flicker over his features, and again she was filled with the paranoia that he knew of her nocturnal outing. “I suspect you’d like that wouldn’t you,” he asked slowly.

“No!” Sigyn said exasperatedly. “I just—” She clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head. No answer would resolve the turn their conversation had taken. A pity, she thought; for a breath of time, she had held high hopes. 

“You know it makes no difference to me what you do,” she said defeatedly, turning back to her plate. Behind her, he made no move to leave and she waited to see whether he would speak again; if he did, it would no doubt be to berate her. He seemed to deem silence the best course in the end, leaving her in peace without another word.


	6. Chapter 5

“I suspect the queen will take to you rather quickly. She’s not half as intimidating as one might think…in my experience, that is, of course. I’ve always found her to be completely kind and welcoming. And you’re perfectly charming when you want to be.”

Sigyn elicited the compulsory laugh, bringing her sister’s seemingly endless lecture to its first halt since they’d entered the tailor’s shop.

“Oh Ásdís, I forgot, you’re the expert on all of this, aren’t you?” Sigyn said with a roll of her eyes.

“When compared to you, I am, in fact,” Ásdís retorted with a laugh. “And it’s exactly the reason you brought me along.” She turned her attention back to the bolts of fabric that lined the back wall. “Since when have you been too proud to accept my help?”

Sigyn chuckled, too. Her interest in her position at court existed solely to satisfy Theoric’s wishes, and she had no interest whatsoever in trying to compete with Ásdís.

“You know I will always welcome your help and your company, dear,” Sigyn replied, glancing back at her with warm smile. “But smugness isn’t becoming on anyone. Even the wife of one so highly-favored as Lukas.”

Ásdís bristled. “Lukas—” she began, an edge in her voice.

“Is wonderful,” Sigyn finished, cutting her off. She turned fully now to find Ásdís in a huff, lips pursed in a fashion almost comical. Sigyn smiled, and reached for her sister’s hand.

“Truly, he is,” she said sincerely. “And no one could be more deserving of you.”

Ásdís’ expression softened.

“But,” Sigyn added slyly, “as your sister, I reserve the right to tell you when you’re starting to sound pretentious. Now stop looking at the patterns. I don’t have time to get something made; the dinner is tonight.”

Laughing, Ásdís pulled her hand away and made a face.

“Well, I truly do think you’ll find the queen’s kindness in particular almost overwhelming,” she said, moving away from the beautiful assortment of silks and satins to a rack of gowns nearby. “She’s quite remarkable. And so attentive to her sons, even now. Raising future sovereigns must have been an immensely daunting task. Can you even imagine?”

At the mention of Frigga’s sons, Sigyn became preoccupied with a display of shoes.

“No, I cannot,” Sigyn replied lightly, examining a particularly horrible open-toed slipper embellished with miniature feathers. “I’d first have to imagine having children at all.”

“You’ve certainly been married long enough to imagine such a thing,” Ásdís said, looking over her shoulder.

Sigyn shook her head, quickly banishing the thought. In a hasty effort to turn the focus away from herself, she eyed her sister’s stomach pointedly.

“Oh dear, you speak in the manner of someone who’s hiding something. Should I be suspicious?”

The moment the accusation was spoken, Sigyn realized the viability of it; if it were in fact true, it would surprise no one, least of all Sigyn. The idea even managed to bring a smile to her lips.

Ásdís laughed and shook her head. “Believe me, I’d have told you first.”

Sigyn laughed, too. “I’m flattered.”

Dodging the many displays as she crossed the floor, Ásdís relieved Sigyn of the feathery atrocity in her hands and replaced it on the rack.

“I shouldn’t worry about tonight, if I were you, Sig,” she said with a gentle smile almost identical to that of her sister. “I’m certain you’ll make a wonderful impression.” She squeezed Sigyn’s hands reassuringly.

“If I’m worried at all, it is only about Theoric’s conduct,” Sigyn admitted with a sigh.

Suddenly seeming uncomfortable, Ásdís cleared her throat at the remark. “Yes, well….I can’t see why anything would be amiss. This evening is just as important to him, I suspect. It could be foundation of a perfectly enviable position at court.”

Sigyn gave her sister a small smile, quickly averting her gaze in the next moment. She loved her sister dearly and trusted her more than anyone. Yet Ásdís had a troublesome knack of inspiring nearly painful nostalgia in her elder sister.

An admittedly large part of Sigyn longed for the simplicity of her younger years, for the joy and for the acceptance, for the chapter of her life that had come to an early close, and Ásdís’ presence filled Sigyn with an ache for the happier time.

With complete clarity, she remembered the tears Ásdís had shed when Sigyn became engaged, fleeing the dinner table and shutting herself in her room. Sigyn had been close behind, ready to offer words of comfort.

“I’m not leaving you behind, Dísa,” she’d assured her gently as they sat side by side on the younger’s bed. “It’s simply change; we all must face it.”

The words had been ones she’d believed in then. Yet, as her new arrangement had begun to spiral downwards, Sigyn’s certainty had decreased by the day, replaced by an emptiness that festered and filled her until it consumed all that had once been in its place. She began to long for her childhood bed, the familiarity of her home, her mother’s embrace. It dawned upon her one day that she’d not felt the affectionate touch of another in months and she’d dissolved into tears in a bewildered Kata’s arms later that very evening.

In pursuit of the comfort she’d once been the purveyor of, Sigyn had sought out Ásdís only to find that their roles could not easily be reversed. Despite the avid attention with which she listened to Sigyn, Ásdís could neither comprehend nor lighten her burdens. Her patience, unlike Sigyn’s, always ran out.

“I know nothing can ever be perfect, Sig,” she would sigh when it did. “But…from where I stand, I can only wish to follow the same path you have. Being left behind is just as hard as change.”

Whether Sigyn’s subsequent warnings had played any role in Ásdís’ choice of husband, she knew not. With painful clarity, however, she was aware that Ásdís had never truly left behind the comforts of childhood. She had never lived without the unconditional love they’d been shown in their youths, the sort Sigyn had tried time and time again to show Theoric in the futile hope that he might someday reciprocate.

Upon her sister, however, the years appeared to have had no effect. She was every bit the radiant and naive child she had always been, a fact upon which Sigyn tried not to dwell. The pair had done nothing different; if anything, Ásdís had only ever striven to assure they did everything just the same. But Ásdís had never needed to grow up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tardiness, while not a crime severely punishable by any means, was a transgression that served Loki’s needs perfectly. His late entrance would be enough to test Odin’s patience, of that he was perfectly certain. On this night, however, he had little interest in his father’s reaction; it was that of Sigyn he intended to gauge.

Above the dining room, he waited. Unseen to those below- apart from them in more ways then he cared to think on for long- he paced the gallery, hand sliding along the cool marble of the balustrade as he watched his father’s guests and their accompanying noise filled the hall.

His thoughts turned to Thor and he wondered what sort of company he would keep when he inevitably became king. Already the hall was dotted with those lucky enough to be in the crown prince’s favor, Loki noted, none of whom seemed to have any redeemable qualities beyond quick reflexes and a bit of brawn.

As if on cue, the sound of a horribly raucous and unfortunately familiar laugh caught Loki’s attention. His gaze snapped away from Thor, moving instead to a man now approaching the table.

As he watched, Theoric clasped hands with Fandral, both men smiling as they exchanged civilities, but Loki had already moved on, searching for Sigyn.

He soon found her, smiling and politely conversing with a few other ladies in whose company he’d often seen her before. He soon realized, however, that they did not have her full attention. With every lull in the conversation, her gaze flickered away from them, sweeping the room. He grinned triumphantly.

“Up here, darling,” he chuckled softly, though he’d taken every precaution to prevent being seen; she could look directly at him and see nothing at all.

He repressed the urge to descend to the hall below immediately. No, Loki intended to draw every ounce of enjoyment from this that he could. He waited until the crowd below was settled into their seats and well into their first course before he pushed himself away from the railing, the enchantment that concealed him melting away.

The leather soles of his boots padded against the cool marble of the stairs as he ambled down them, into the dining room. He couldn’t help but grin as the patrons at the nearest table, who only moments before had been overcome with drunken laughter and merriment, fell respectfully silent, standing and bowing their heads as he passed.

The corners of his mouth twitched up further as the rest of the room, too, gradually went quiet, though Odin, sitting in the center of the longest table, did not seem so amused. Loki’s attention was only for the woman across from his father, the woman whose soft curls bounced about her shoulders as she turned to see what had caused the sudden change in atmosphere.

He found himself wondering, as he drew closer, whether she would ever cease to take his breath away. Day by day, she was taking him over, slowly seeping into every corner of his mind, and tonight she looked the part. It was as though the stars had been woven into gown she wore, its midnight blue mirroring her eyes, causing them to appear brighter than he’d ever seen. With every movement, she shimmered like the sky itself, the entirety of Yggdrasil epitomized in her.

As Sigyn caught sight of him, she visibly decompressed, her shoulders relaxing and her expression rearranging itself into the smile he was growing to prize above all other sights.

Completely aware that he now had the attention of every occupant of the room’s three long, wall- bordering tables, Loki let out a soft chuckle, his long-fingered hands coming to rest over his breast plate, one atop the other.

“Do forgive my tardiness,” he said loudly, projecting his apology towards the room as a whole, though his smile betrayed the disingenuous nature of his words, and he made no attempt to conceal it. The satisfaction Loki found in making a spectacle, however small, was ever-enduring.

Expertly ignoring the scalding look of disapproval from his father, Loki made his way towards his place at the table at Odin’s left hand.

“Thor…Mother,” he greeted with a remorseless grin as he joined them. He regretted only that Sigyn should be seated across from Thor rather than him, but he wrote it off as the cost of his thoroughly enjoyable entrance, and settled into his seat. No sooner had the tips of his fingers come into contact with the stem of his goblet did the room descend into deafening conviviality once again.

Without further preamble, Loki turned his attention back to his father’s guests, eyes skimming right over the honored captain and falling on—

“Lady Sigyn,” Loki greeted warmly, lifting his goblet just enough to signal the wine-bearing servant behind him to fill it, his eyes remaining on her all the while. “How unfair it is that you should outshine every other in the room.”

The smile he received in response was remarkably unabashed, and he swelled with satisfaction. “My prince, you are too kind,” she replied.

“That is something I am not often accused of,” Loki chuckled, his eyes flickering from her to the considerably less pleasant sight beside her.

“Lord Theoric, how ever did you manage to find such a beautiful wife?” he asked, voice dripping with derision. The wondrously dangerous combination of boredom and daring never ceased to amaze even Loki. Though the slight was lost on Theoric, the same could certainly not be said of his wife.

Sigyn shot Loki a look of warning which he ignored, far too busy enjoying toying with her husband. Despite the exchange, Theoric remained completely oblivious to any malice in Loki’s words.

“I made her an offer to which she could not say no,” he explained, with a laugh. “She couldn’t resist.”

Loki’s smile tightened. Perhaps he’d have found Theoric’s ignorance to be forgivable had the fool not unknowingly managed to leave a trail of unhappiness in his wake. This, he reminded himself tersely, was the man who managed to contain and suffocate something beautiful and rare, preventing it from flourishing.

“Perhaps one such a woman is in your future, Your Highness.”

Loki turned towards the owner of the far gentler voice that had spoken. Sigyn gave a barely detectable shake of her head, assuring him that Theoric’s claim held no weight and succeeding in replacing Loki’s smile once again. Something in her eyes gave him hope, more than he had ever allowed himself to harbor. He raised his drink to her.

“Perhaps.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki’s attention, much to Sigyn’s admitted dismay, was soon pulled from her, and without it, the dinner continued in monotony. Just as promised, the queen’s kindness was remarkable, and when it was being otherwise directed, Sigyn fell into conversation with an old acquaintance beside whom she had found herself seated.

Content amidst her distractions, the droning conversation of her husband and the All Father- a conversation that seemed to revolve solely around Theoric’s new post- offered little opportunity for her participation….until Loki began to make interjections of his own.

“Your confidence is remarkable, Lord Theoric…”

“Surely no one would imagine any less of a man who has achieved such success. To a truly amazing extent, I must say…”

“It always seems to be men like you who are the most fortunate….”

Routinely, his comments were ignored by Odin and met with oblivious thanks from Theoric before the conversation was pushed hastily forward. With each subsequent dismissal, Loki’s focus turned from the discussion once again, and Sigyn tried continually to catch his eye but to no avail. It was not before Loki had managed to polish off multiple glasses of wine and switched to mead that she was successful.

As Loki looked up at her blankly, she turned her own gaze to the drink in his hand, a crease forming between her brows as she frowned at it. He glanced down at the offending drink, then back to her in surprise. Sigyn bit her lip, finding herself hesitant to express her disapproval, but nor was she eager to see him behave in the manner of drunken revelry Theoric all too often exhibited.

Before she could nod pointedly towards Theoric, however, or arrange her face into an appropriately beseeching expression, Loki seemed to ascertain her meaning. With a soft clunk, he returned the glass to the table and smiled at her.

Disbelief overwhelmed Sigyn and before she could fully process the simplicity of the exchange or marvel at his willingness to act for the sole purpose of soothing her mind, the sound of her name being spoken snapped her back to attention.

“Lady Sigyn, I believe your sister, Ásdís, is one of my ladies,” said Frigga, smiling. “She’s quite a lovely girl.” Despite the queen’s composure, there was something lurking just behind it that troubled Sigyn; Frigga was not nearly so oblivious as Theoric.

Sigyn shook the unnerving notion from her mind quickly. “Indeed she is, Your Majesty,” she replied politely. In earnest, she added, “I do adore her.”

Frigga appeared pleased by this. “Do consider yourself welcome to join her here anytime you wish,” she offered, an invitation that would have inspired greater happiness in Sigyn had it not caused Theoric to grip her knee tightly beneath the table, a gesture she supposed he meant as praise.

Nevertheless, Sigyn managed to reply with grace. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I shall,” she assented.

Satisfied, Frigga’s gaze turned in the direction of Thor and Loki. “Such affection between siblings is to be admired,” she chuckled. “Perhaps you can teach my sons to follow your example.”

To Sigyn’s surprise, Odin seemed to deem this statement cause enough to step in to the conversation. “Your sons are well tempered enough, Frigga,” the All Father said with a sense of finality, but his wife elected ignore it.

She placed her hand gently over his. “You could have fooled me, dear,” she responded lightly. Wearily, Odin’s hand turned to clasp hers, but the manner in which he sighed suggested to Sigyn that he found the subject at hand either unamusing or unsuitable for discussion.

In light of his father’s involvement, the conversation now seemed to have captured Thor’s attention as well.

“She’d have you believe we’re at each others’ throats day and night, Lady Sigyn,” he remarked, leaning forward to speak to her in a would-be whisper, though he seemed incapable of truly of lowering his voice. His smile was contagious, however; the realm’s love of their golden prince was no mystery. “Don’t believe a word. Although…my brother is the difficult sort,” he told Sigyn with the air of one confiding a great secret. She laughed.

“Is he indeed?” she asked, casting an amused glance towards Loki who merely rolled his eyes.

“Careful now, brother,” he warned.

“Or what, Loki?” Thor retorted, the challenge in his voice clear. “You’ll merely prove my point.”

Loki scoffed. “You may not be the dimmest man at this table, Thor, but by no means does that make you a match for me.”

Sigyn sucked in her cheeks, thanking the realms that Theoric’s attention had been drawn elsewhere once again. If Thor realized his brother’s meaning, he had the good sense to ignore it.

“Such a speech!” he exclaimed instead, his large hand colliding with the table with a resounding smack as he laughed good-naturedly. Grinning up at Sigyn again, he said, “Rather bold, what did I tell you?”

Sigyn returned Thor’s smile, though his younger brother did not escape her notice as he fell back in his seat, gritting his teeth. The condescension Thor exuded was barely there, and yet she could imagine that it took its toll on the recipient.

“Bold he may be, my prince,” she said. “But do you not envy him for being so?”

Thor laughed incredulously. “Envy him?” he repeated, brow cocked.

“Of course,” Sigyn smiled as Loki looked up once more. “I admit, I have often envied my sister. A younger sibling will always get away with what their elder cannot. They are free of the responsibilities of a first-born, and with such a freedom, they may do as they like.”

Thor considered her words with the utmost attention, his eyes widening as she spoke. He nodded slowly as she finished then smiled, his reply astonishing her.

“There is a great deal of truth in your words,” he admitted freely. “You may yet inspire a greater patience in us for one another, and my mother would have her way.” He winked at Frigga, who merely rolled her eyes in a manner that uncannily resembled Loki.

“If envy spawns respect from you, darling, you have much yet to learn,” she replied simply.

At this, Odin interjected again, more firmly than before. “Competition is only natural, my dear. There is no harm in it.”

This time, Frigga took his cue and the topic was put to rest. On the king’s opposite side, Loki’s gaze shifted desirously back to his mead, but as Sigyn watched, he resisted the urge and stared blankly ahead.

She desperately wished there were something she could do or say, but so long as they were here, she could do nothing but watch his spirits plummet. With every emotion that flickered in his eyes, however, Sigyn began to realize that she would only too gladly share his burdens.

It had dawned upon her that if she gave in to her desires, her affections towards Loki would not be unreciprocated as those aimed at Theoric had always been. In fact, his stark contrast to Theoric had never been clearer than as she watched the pair now. One’s care for her was evident while the other’s was merely obligatory. And while she’d given both of them significance enough to hurt her, she trusted one would not.

Such trust in itself was truly remarkable for her, and in light of it, Sigyn found that she wished to share more with him. More than mirth or witty remarks, more even than the secrets she’d already divulged or the intimacies of her increasingly frequent fantasies. She wanted the good and the bad; to be his confidant and he hers, a notion that, until very recently, would have frightened her. Any fear she had previously harbored, however, was greatly lessened, and somehow, Sigyn felt more in control than she had in years.

As her thoughts drifted back to the initial proposition Loki had made her, offering her nothing more than happiness, she smiled, the memory distracting enough to prevent her from seeing the fully-armored sentinel swiftly approaching the table.

Much to her perplexity, she felt Theoric tense beside her, but before she could inquire after the sudden change, she too caught sight of the man now speaking urgently into Odin’s ear. The All Father listened attentively, expression hard and growing increasingly solemn by the second. To either side of him, his guests, too, grew solemn as they began to take note of the interruption.

Suddenly seeming to have heard enough, Odin stood from the table. Hushed voices throughout the hall whispered speculations to one another as the king’s attention turned to Thor. In response to a sharp jerk of his father’s head, the prince leapt immediately to his feet. In the brief moment it took Sigyn to process what had happened, Thor was already gone from the hall with the sentinel at his side.

Odin turned next to Theoric. “Captain,” he said, voice low. “With me.”

Theoric, too, rose without hesitation, following the king, and leaving the hall in a state of disconcerted stillness.

“I imagine they’re off to polish their armor and swap battle tales.”

Sigyn’s stomach dropped as Loki spoke, his voice low and biting. She turned to look back at him, realizing that in the brief commotion, he had been overlooked entirely.

As the hall buzzed with suspicions and worry, Frigga cast her gaze around anxiously.

“Loki, go join your father,” she directed calmly.

Loki merely expelled a bitter laugh. “Do you not think I’d better serve him by remaining right where he left me?”

Sharply, in a manner that brooked no argument, Frigga turned to face him, lips pursed. “Go,” she instructed once again.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “If you’ll pardon me,” he said dryly, giving Sigyn an over-exaggerated bow before setting after his father and brother at a far more leisurely pace.

Sigyn watched in tense silence as Frigga beckoned the nearest servant to her side, sending him to make inquires about what had happened. As they awaited the boy’s return, Frigga managed to coax the room back into a state moderate ease, behaving with a grace and tranquility Sigyn could never have mustered had their roles been reversed.

Their wait was blessedly short. As the boy quietly recounted his findings to the queen, she nodded slowly, then dismissed him with soft, “Thank you,” before turning to Sigyn.

“Lady Sigyn, it seems there has been a disturbance of sorts. Nothing of danger to us, it is miles from here,” she assured her quickly. “However, your husband has been called away and will likely not be back for some time. He has requested that you return home without him. I’m given to believe your carriage has already been called out to wait for you.”

Sigyn could only nod. She wanted to ask what kind of disturbance, but she found herself incapable of voicing the words. She knew the answer would only force her to consider the true source of her concern, and even the briefest moment of reflection made it undeniably clear that it was not for Theoric’s well-being.

She managed to get to her feet, thank the queen quietly, and make her way towards the door. The hallway beyond was dimly lit and entirely deserted, qualities that, together, left her uneasy and cleared the way for every distinguishable possibility to present itself to her in succession.

As she rounded a corner, Sigyn spotted a familiar figure ahead, the sight of which sent the warmth of relief flowing through her. Her footsteps no doubt alerted him to her presence, and as Loki looked up, Sigyn realized that he’d never had the slightest intention of joining his father.

As she drew level with him, she looked up to meet his gaze. In the time she had known him, she’d discovered his silences to be rare, and when they did come, they were weighted. As he gazed back at her now, a moment so heavy it was nearly stifling descended over them, and as though to compensate, their breaths came more loudly, amplified in the otherwise silent hallway. His eyes searched her, emboldening her. All reason and fear fell away, and she kissed him.

He did not allow a single moment to be wasted in surprise. No sooner had her lips touched his was he pulling her closer, but it wasn’t enough. Her hands cupped his face, and their kiss deepened in desperation. But for lack of innocence, she’d have equated it to being kissed for the first time, and she did not wish to stop. Never had anyone kissed her like he was, with such longing and tenderness; with urgency and gentility all at once.

At last Sigyn broke away, but Loki kept her close, breathing heavily still, his hands still pressed tightly to her lower back. Her eyes flickered up only to find that he’d not yet opened his.

“Do you know…” she whispered, thumb stroking softly over his jawline. “I’ve really no idea why I trust you.”

He smiled, nose brushing against her forehead. “Sigyn…” he breathed, speaking for the first time since leaving the dining room, and she ached to kiss him again. Of all that the realms held, what power did this man yield to awaken such feelings in her? As she gazed back at him, she felt as though the answer was just out of her grasp; close enough to glimpse but too fleeting to touch.

The answer was whisked out of sight, however, by the sudden sound of approaching footsteps around the corner. Unceremoniously shoved back into reality, Sigyn and Loki stepped hastily away from one another.

As though she’d never seen him, she ducked around him and continued on her way, heart pounded more quickly with every step. With every taste she was given, her desire for what could be was only strengthened. Even had there still been a way out, Sigyn no longer wanted it.


	7. Chapter 6

Sigyn allowed her head to fall back and rest against the cool porcelain of the tub. She sighed quietly, the sound bouncing off the tiled bathroom walls. A loose wisp of hair fluttered across her forehead, urged on by the cool breeze from the open window. 

Lazily, Sigyn lifted her arms from the now-lukewarm water that sloshed about her, and stretched them above her head in an effort to put herself at ease, but her mind remained restless.

The occasions upon which Sigyn slept late were few and far between, but this morning had been an exception. The house had been quiet, allowing for such a luxury. No ruckus had arisen in the unholy hours of the night; there had been no slamming of doors nor hammering of footsteps to signal the return of her husband and his complete disregard for courteous conduct. Theoric had not come home at all.

Any other night, Sigyn might have presumed his absence to be indicative of some lewd outing, about which she did not wish to hear. But in light of his abrupt departure from dinner the night before, her immediate assumption was of a different nature entirely.

Her panic was quickly put to rest, however, by Kata’s assurance that Theoric had sent word via a palace messenger, explaining only that he would not return until evening due to certain affairs requiring his attention. Though the message answered none of Sigyn’s questions, it was enough to quell her worries. He was not in danger.

With the assurance of his prolonged absence, Sigyn’s piano, untouched since Theoric’s last outburst, was put to use once again. She passed the morning on its bench in content solitude, but she was unable to stop herself from imagining that Loki might appear as he had last time. 

As should have been anticipated, however, he did not.

Driven to distraction, she had abandoned her musical pursuits and retired to the bath. Now as she soaked, her thoughts of Loki remained, and she recounted the words she had spoken to him mere hours ago: I really have no idea why I trust you.

She could find no reason that she ought to trust him any more than she trusted Theoric. In fact, with what experience she had in such matters, choosing to place her trust in another seemed foolish. She would only be making herself vulnerable. What proof had she that Loki was any different from her husband, that he did not simply wish to use her to his advantage before forgetting her entirely?

Doubts swarmed her, seeping through her mind like poison, but perhaps, she thought, it was not for her to search for purpose in his actions. After all, from the first, he had promised only one thing, his offer simple and straightforward: happiness. 

Merely words, yes, but his actions since that stolen conversation seemed to be assurance enough of his good intentions. No measure of inventive thinking could twist her memories of him from their night at the symphony into anything that could bear even remote resemblance of Theoric. Loki’s objective, whatever it might be, had never been to harm her.

Even if she had misread him, she realized, even if he would soon tire of her, he had provided the promised means of escape. What was more, he had made her happy in the time she’d spent in his company.

Temporary or otherwise, their involvement was worth her while if only for the change she’d found in herself in the past few weeks, for the greater frequency of her smiles and the reminder that she could control her fate if she wished. She could not let herself draw back from Loki for fear of the dismissal she’d long been conditioned to expect. 

Indifference would undoubtedly protect her from ultimate heartache, but in the end she knew what she truly wanted, and it was not a meaningless liaison. There was no way to win. It mattered not what Loki truly felt or wished; the facts would remain the same. Any happiness she was allowed could never be hers to keep and escape could only ever be temporary. With another sigh, she closed her eyes.

To her right, the door opened and Kata entered quietly, clean towel and bathrobe under her arm. Sigyn neither stirred nor opened her eyes.

“My lady?”

“Yes?” Sigyn replied idly.

“I don’t mean to give you reason to rush,” said Kata, “but you have a guest.”

Sigyn straightened, the cool air prickling at her wet skin. “A guest?” she repeated, foolishly wondering whether the morning’s illogical hopes had been fulfilled. 

Kata nodded. “Lady Áfríðr.”

Sigyn blanched. “My mother?” she stammered, already reaching for the towel. “We weren’t expecting her…”

“Maeva is having tea brought to the drawing room—” began Kata calmly.

“Would you have it brought up here instead? In the time it would take me to dress she would grow impatient.”

Kata nodded her understanding and whisked from the room. Sigyn pushed herself from the tub. She shivered as she rubbed dry, hurrying to wrap herself in her robe. Wet hair hung over her shoulder in an untidy manner she suspected her mother would find unsuitable.

She emerged from the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest in an effort to keep warm, an effort unaided by the thin silk of her robe.

The tall, willowy silhouette of her mother awaited her, framed in the window from which its owner gazed absently. Áfríðr was visibly aged, and in the sunlight streaming through the glass, every line etched into her face was particularly pronounced. The sight gave Sigyn pause. It was rare to catch her mother in a moment of stillness. She cleared her throat softly to announce her presence. 

“Mama?” 

Áfríðr turned sharply. Her face flushed with color, and she smiled at her eldest daughter. “Darling.”

Her arms spread wide, and obligingly, Sigyn crossed the room and embraced her. Soft lips met papery cheek. “I, um, didn’t expect you,” Sigyn admitted, drawing back. 

“I must ask you to forgive me,” Áfríðr murmured apologetically, her fingers brushing the wet tips of Sigyn’s hair, the smallest of frowns disrupting the features that were not quite so beautiful as they’d been in her youth. She pushed the curls back over Sigyn’s shoulder where they soaked the pale pink fabric. 

“I simply thought, in light of what has happened, you might prefer not to be alone while you wait for Theoric.”

Sigyn frowned. “What has happened…” she repeated in bewilderment.

“Yes. I’m afraid I only just heard the news.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Sigyn replied waspishly. Her mother’s eyes widened at this revelation and filled Sigyn with gut-twisting anxiety.

“You haven’t heard from your husband?”

“I-I have, but only to say he would be back this evening…. What’s happened?” Sigyn repeated with urgency.

The door swung open, creaking on its hinges and bringing their conversation to a halt. Maeva entered, tea tray in tow. She loitered as she set it down, fussing unnecessarily with the sugar bowl long enough to suggest she hoped to overhear something of interest. Soon enough, however, the tension became too much for her to ignore, and she made her reluctant exit.

When they were once again alone, Áfríðr gestured towards one of the armchairs by the window. Feeling as though she were awaiting sentencing, Sigyn perched herself on the chair’s edge. She tried to steady herself as her mother took seat opposite.

“There was… a sort of mishap near the Bifröst,” Áfríðr began slowly. “A miscalculation in the energy field’s supply and consequently… an explosion. There were twenty of the guards on duty, all of them lost.”

Sigyn’s blood ran cold. “Twenty?” she repeated hoarsely.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” 

Áfríðr’s eyes met Sigyn’s, and she hesitated. “…All of them in Theoric’s charge.”

Sigyn, filled with horrible dread, squeezed her eyes shut. Twenty men…. Their loss would undoubtedly be personal to Theoric. He must have fought alongside many of them, perhaps even counted some his friends, and though she’d always held a fair amount of disdain for most of her husband’s companions, none deserved this fate.

“Theoric is going to be….”

“It is not his fault, Sigyn,” said Áfríðr firmly. “You must make certain he knows that.”

Sigyn nodded feebly. Beyond Theoric’s inevitable grief, she selfishly worried that such a devastation taking place under his command, mere weeks after his appointment, would disgrace him. The humiliation would turn him into something contemptible. Something her mother, knowing very little of her son-in-law beyond his pleasant facade, could scarcely imagine.

“He won’t listen…” Sigyn murmured.

“Perhaps not, but he will return to you alive,” replied Áfríðr sharply. “I was not so fortunate when your father served the Royal Guard….”

Worries dispersed and were replaced with shame. Men had been lost, their wives deprived of husbands, their mothers left without sons, and their children to never again see their fathers— just as Sigyn had been. 

“I know…. Forgive me, you’re right.” 

Memories of her late father danced before her eyes, memories that, since his death, had gained potency. In the earliest of them, his reflection stood behind hers in the mirror, grinning as he watched her twirl about in the miniature gowns he’d brought home for her as attempted recompense for his frequent travels and subsequent absence. In the last of them, she was far older, watching as he rushed from the house on a day of crisis, answering the call to arms along with every other respectable Aesir man. In a clamor of rarely-worn armor, he’d paused only long enough to kiss his eldest daughter. Tell your mother I’ll be back for dinner, he’d bid her, and in a stupor, Sigyn had simply nodded. Only later had she realized the emptiness of his final promise; he must have known he would never stand a chance.

Áfríðr laid her hand on Sigyn’s knee, recapturing her attention. “You must turn your care where it is needed,” she pressed. “Your husband is a powerful man; you are capable of doing good for those who have lost someone. You must do your part.”

Sigyn’s brows rose. “My part—?” she repeated incredulously. Surely her mother knew that such matters were not so simply rectifiable. It was laughable to imagine that her evaluated status could be of any importance to those currently mourning their loved ones.

“Mama, how much good is it really? When the wife of Papa’s commander patted your shoulder sympathetically, I can’t imagine it made it any easier.”

Áfríðr’s eyes narrowed. “Sigyn—” she warned.

“What good is my husband’s power?” Sigyn asked angrily. Her mother would have no answer that could satisfy, she knew, but she craved one nonetheless. “Papa never cared for power or position. Surely, my pursuit of such things would bring him great disappointment!”

“You married a man of your own choosing and in doing so, helped your family when we needed it most,” said Áfríðr firmly. Her expression softened. “Now, how could your father have found any fault in that? My darling, I can think of no instance in which he ever found fault with you, can you?”

Sigyn’s shoulders sagged. Lump rising in her throat, she gave a tiny shake of her head.

“No….”

Áfríðr sighed. “It’s alright, darling,” she murmured. She reached out, cupping Sigyn’s cheek tenderly. “I miss him, too.”

Sigyn nodded wordlessly. Swallowing, she straightened up. 

“I, um…” She looked away and exhaled slowly, clearing her head. “I need to be collected when Theoric returns. He’ll have enough on his mind without….having to worry about me.”

She gave her mother a wry smile, and Áfríðr nodded. 

“Yes, I think that would be best.”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

As night fell, Sigyn found herself alone once more. Theoric had still yet to return, and despite Áfríðr’s insistence that she was quite happy to stay until he did, she’d grow visibly weary as the day had worn on. At last, Sigyn convinced her to retire to the comforts of her own home for the evening, assuring her that there was no need to worry. In truth, she thought it best that her mother was not present when Theoric made his reappearance. His temper, she suspected, would be restrained for no one.

An uneasy stillness seeped through the house, its inhabitants anxiously awaiting their Lord’s return. Sigyn relieved the staff of their duties early, however; if there was to be any unpleasantness, she no more wished them to witness it than she did her mother. As the others went off to bed, Sigyn was all too tempted to do the same. 

She dressed for sleep and brushed the braid from her hair. If Theoric was not back within the hour, she decided, she would attempt to rest and face his inevitable displeasure in the morning. 

She’d no sooner struck this bargain with herself, however, when the very floor of her room shook, disturbed by the slamming of the front door below. 

Silence followed, and Sigyn found it just as troubling, if not more so, than the anticipated uproar.

Tying the cord of her robe as she went, Sigyn slipped hesitantly from her room. She stole across the landing and peered down to the entry hall below just as Theoric passed through the doorway into the dining room and out of sight. Sigyn held her breath, for a moment considering returning to her room and leaving him to his own devices.

As she retreated from the railing, however, a sudden horrible roar cut through the silence. The sound pierced through her, immediately followed by a tremendous crash that stopped her in her tracks.

Against what might have been her better judgment, she hurried to the stairs. The sound of shattering china reached her ears, and Theoric’s bellowed profanities chilled her blood as she drew nearer.

The sight that awaited her brought her to a halt in the doorway. Sigyn watched on in horror as her husband, still fully armored, tore apart the room. The long table had been sent into disarray, the shattered remnants of place settings strewn across the floor, an overturned chair in their midst. Meanwhile, Theoric ripped entire drawers from the chest against the wall, their contents scattered about his feet.

“Theoric?” said Sigyn weakly.

He turned. Blankly, he stared at her for a moment as though lost. The stench of rum reached her nose, and she realized what had delayed his return. The empty bottle clutched in his left hand confirmed her suspicions.

Theoric followed her gaze to the bottle, and chuckled. A horrible grin stretched its way across his face.

“Well there…she…is!” he sneered stumbling closer to her. “The Lady Sigyn.”

Theoric stopped, amusement fading quickly. He glared at her coldly. “Do you…” he slurred, “have the slightest idea what was happening while you were happily chatting… and dinning… and kissing everyone’s ass?” 

With the last word, his voice rose to a shout and she flinched.

“Yes, I—”

“Dead!” he sneered, gesturing at her with his bottle. “Twenty dead…. twenty Hawks, blown to shreds and left at my feet!”

With a sweep of his arm, he knocked the candlesticks from the table, sending them clattering loudly to the floor.

“My dear, please…” she whispered, stepping bravely closer and reaching out. “Theoric…please stop.”

He evaded her touch, turning away and shaking his head angrily. “I will not,” he hissed, visibly shaking with rage. “Oh no. No, don’t you… dare… presume to tell me what to do!”

With each word he spoke, his voice grew louder, and as he bellowed the last of them, he turned again, an almighty roar ripping from his chest as he flung the bottle away from him. It whizzed past Sigyn’s ear and shattered against the wall behind her. 

She leapt away, eyes wide. Horrified, she stared at him, words failing her. Any remaining ounce of obligation drained away, and she turned to flee the room.

“…Sigyn.”

She froze, one hand clutched around the frame of the door. Something in his voice, hoarse and broken though it was, had given her pause. She couldn’t say why, but she waited for him to speak again, heart pounding in her chest. 

Silence. Then hesitant footsteps towards her. Fearfully, she looked over her shoulder at him. He appeared, once again, as though he were lost.

“I-I… Sigyn…” 

Theoric made to move closer still, but when Sigyn visibly tensed, he thought better of it. He stared at her apprehensively, and she stared back, their eyes meeting for the first time in weeks.

“Are you…” Searching her face, he struggled for words. When at last he found them, they were spoken with a dread undoubtedly caused by anticipation of her answer: “Are you… frightened of me?”

“No,” replied Sigyn reflexively, but her answer, defensive and hastily given, was too obvious a lie for even Theoric to mistake its falseness. She swallowed hard and tried again.

“No. Of course not.”

Sigyn watched as his brows drew together and he blinked rapidly. His lips parted slightly, and she thought he would speak again, but instead he merely scoffed and turned from her.

Filled with sudden remorse, she watched him retreat. Had she not known better, she’d have thought from his behavior that he’d just come to a realization of sorts. She could scarcely imagine, however, that the notion of distance between them would distress him in the slightest. It ought not to be a surprise, at least… How could it be?

“Go…” said Theoric at last, leaning over the table and staring down at his hands. “Just… get out.”

Sigyn hesitated. Then, though he could not see her, she nodded and returned to her room.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The boats were launched, the arrows fired. As Sigyn watched the fallen warriors disappear into nothingness, she shivered. The frigid night wind whipped around her face, and she pulled the black furs she wore tightly around herself. 

Feeling her shift beside him, Theoric glanced down at his wife. Still rather shaken from the previous night’s argument, Sigyn attempted to give him a small smile of reassurance. She lacked confidence in her ability to comfort him, but she knew she ought to try. In all their years together, she’d never seen him so vulnerable as he was at present, and while he had certainly rattled her, she could not help but pity him.

Theoric moved away from her and into the crowd, exchanging quiet words with those he passed. Sigyn fell back, distancing herself from him.

Her attention was suddenly caught by the flash of a green cape amidst the mass of black. Hardly thinking, she made her way towards it. When she was near enough, she reached out her hand, fingers lightly grazing Loki’s. 

The moment they touched, Loki’s hand jerked away, startling her. He turned sharply, expression hard and unforgiving, but the instant he saw Sigyn, he softened, pleasantly surprised.

Sigyn swallowed. “Hi.”

“I’m glad you found me,” said Loki quietly, and Sigyn allowed herself to smile.

“Will you walk with me?” she requested.

Loki nodded, and together they made their way down the path that lead away from the dark water of the bay and the chilled wind that blew from it. Again, their fingers brushed, and this time, neither pulled away.

They walked in contemplative silence for a few minutes before Loki spoke. 

“I must tell you, I’ve been unable to forget what you said… About trusting me.”

“I’ve thought about it as well.” She looked up at him, trying to gauge his response. She was prepared to be honest with him and wished him to afford her the same courtesy.

Loki frowned a little and nodded. “Yes, I thought you might….” he sighed. “I realize you have no cause to trust me.”

“I thought that at first—”

“But I wish you would,” he finished. Silence followed, and their eyes met. Sigyn let out a low breath. 

“You do?” she asked him slowly. 

It seemed impossibly strange that only weeks ago she had tried to rebuff him when now she was anxious to know to what extent he cared for her, desperate to be given reason to hope.

A sly smile stretched its way across his face. “Is that not befitting of the man you have imagined me to be?” he asked.

“Is that not befitting of the God of Lies?” she retorted, raising her brows. “You cannot find fault in my caution. You ought to know its cause.”

He nodded. “I’m quite certain I do, yes,” he conceded, smile fading a little.

Sigyn stopped and turned towards him. Their distance from the crowd had grown more than she’d realized. She bit her lip, considering her next question with care. Not long ago, she’d been certain of its answer; she now wished to know if it had changed.

“Tell me truthfully: are you merely playing?”

Loki, too, came to a halt and stared back at her with such intensity that, no matter his answer, she knew she would unreservedly believe it.

“Not anymore.”

Every worry coiled within her released. Warmth spread through her chest, and she smiled.

“When can I see you again?”


	8. Chapter 7

Loki never could have prepared himself for this.

On the night he spotted Sigyn, he’d seen a challenge, standing on her own in the ballroom. He’d seen her beauty, he’d seen the obstacle that was her husband and little more. Never could he have anticipated what she would bring in her wake. 

No one could suggest that Loki was anything less than thoroughly experienced with the opposite sex. In their younger years, he had once been informed by a smug Thor of the many merits of their respective titles when it came to women. Loki, then of clearer conscience, had dismissed him with a roll of his eyes, haughtily advising his brother not to be so vulgar. The theory had then seemed ludicrous— nothing more than a means for his brother to boast. But it managed to lodge itself into Loki’s consciousness nonetheless. Within the course of a week, he had put it to the test and found it to be unassailably true. Never would he long for intimate company and be without it.

He ought to have known from the first words he had exchanged with Sigyn that she was the beginning of something else entirely. He felt somehow different with her than with any woman whose company he had kept before. There was something more there, a far deeper attraction— something he had been keen to ignore for as long as possible.

Since the night of the funeral, however, he had lost all ability to go on ignoring it. With hardly a moment’s consideration, Loki had assured her of his good intentions, making promises he’d not realized he was willing to make until he had done so. He was nearly as surprised as Sigyn to learn that he was no longer pursuing her for the sake of amusement or sport. He wondered how long that had been the case but did not dare dwell on it.

In the weeks that followed, everything began to change. No longer were Loki’s days whiled away in stillness of the library or in the solitude of his chambers. Instead, every possible moment was spent with Sigyn, and those that were not were spent devising how next they could meet in secret.

Sigyn, with the useful pretext Frigga’s invitation, came more often to court— a habit, she informed Loki, that was met with no resistance from Theoric. But despite Loki’s clout and his vast knowledge of the palace’s service passages and hideaways, privacy was difficult to come by, and it was nearly impossible for Sigyn to slip away unnoticed.

Soon, Loki was spending many a dewy morning waiting in the alley behind Sigyn’s house. His patience was never long-lived, and by the time Sigyn appeared, it was often to find him cold and irritable. Her presence had the ability to thaw him, however; her touch as she embraced him in greeting felt hot as a brand against his skin, burning to his very core. He’d begun to need that touch, to ache in its absence, craving her skin, her smile, even her scent when they were apart.

Despite this, Sigyn had yet to visit his bed. It was not for lack of desire on his part— far from it— but rather worry than she might refuse him. He feared that somehow, should he make such advances, he might do something to remind her of Theoric. He knew nothing of the intimacies she had shared with her husband, and though he had no cause to imagine they had been any different from the typical relations shared by a man and his wife, his opinion of Theoric was not so grand as to believe him incapable of something worse.

More and more, Loki worried about what went on in Theoric’s home. He’d seen the surly warrior, trudging about the palace in the aftermath of the accident. Whether in the training yard or on duty at Odin’s side, Theoric exuded a newly acquired grimness, and Loki hoped for Sigyn’s sake that it had nothing to do with her recent activities. Sigyn, however, was reluctant to talk about it.

“I can manage perfectly,” she assured Loki when he pressed the subject. “He’s my husband, and I know him well. I promise you— he doesn’t know.”

“How can he not?” replied Loki earnestly. “It’s happening right under his nose.”

“Why are you so worried?” asked Sigyn. “I risk great deal by discovery, yes, but you… You have nothing to lose.”

Nothing but you, Loki refrained from adding. He’d given her enough power over him already without showing her just how deeply attached to her he had become.

Sigyn proved to have the uncanny ability of coaxing the truth from him. He found himself confiding in her things that he had never allowed himself to tell anyone, and rather than the scorn he half expected her to respond with, she had shown nothing but compassion and understanding. She was always reasonable and fair, ever willing to listen.

She seemed surprised when one day in passing he remarked upon the sort of king his brother was sure to make.

“I was not aware that the All-Father had decided which of you was to become king,” said Sigyn, frowning. They sat across from one another at a table tucked away in the dusty recesses of the palace library.

His laugh was bitter. “Sigyn, you are perfectly aware of what it is that the Aesir value. My dear brother is the embodiment of all those things. Whether or not he is best for the realm, he is what they expect and what they want in a king.” Her gaze suddenly felt penetrating, but he did not allow himself to look away. He simply shrugged his feigned indifference. “It has long been decided.”

She got up and walked around the table. The next thing he knew, her small hands were on his shoulders, caressing their way down his arms. Thoughts of his brother and the throne suddenly slipped away, making way for the others that the warmth of her touch ushered in.

“I didn’t know,” she murmured.

Loki shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied, somewhat weakly.

“But it clearly does.” She moved to face him once more, leaning against the edge of the table. With a steady hand, she cupped his cheek. Her smile was reassuring, her voice earnest. “You can still do so much good from where you stand, you know.”

Loki caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “That might be true of a better man,” he chuckled, kissing the center of her palm. “But I am not as good as you, Sigyn.”

It was the truth. She was the very embodiment of patience and grace and kindness…everything good. She was his antithesis, a powerful, inhuman force ripping him from the world that he had so long inhabited. There was nothing for it but to hold tight and hope for the best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sigyn?”

“Hmm?”

Silence followed, the hesitance in it almost tangible, then:

“Did you ever love him?”

Sigyn looked up sharply towards Loki. She opened her mouth to ask him to repeat himself, but she already knew she had heard him properly. It was a marvel he hadn’t asked sooner, really.

From their perch on the glass-domed terrace atop one of the palace’s many towers, all of Asgard lay unfurled beneath them— the lakes and greenery, gardens and waterfalls, and beyond the city, mountains shrouded in mist and shadows. Loki was looking at none of these things, however, but rather at the training grounds directly below where Sigyn’s husband was instructing a handful of warriors who were new to his unit. Replacements, no doubt, Sigyn thought dolefully.

At present, two of the men—one tall and broadly built, the other quite small for a warrior—were circling one another in the combat ring while Theoric shouted commands. After several tried and failed offensive tactics by the smaller recruit, Theoric lost his temper and stepped into the ring himself, bringing the man to the ground with one well-placed blow.

Sigyn sighed. She felt she owed Loki a truthful answer.

“I thought I did… for a time.”

Loki’s brow furrowed. “You thought?” he repeated in a voice that suggested he did not believe her.

“Yes, I wanted to,” she explained.

Slowly, Loki nodded. “But you did not.”

Though it might have been simpler say she never had, it was not so straightforward as that. Sigyn bit her lip and turned her back on the scene below, puzzling over how best to explain herself when she knew Loki could see no reason in it. It had been quite a time since she’d spoken of this to anyone, and though she was willing to divulge the story to Loki, she found herself struggling to find the words to do so.

“Have _you_ ever loved anyone?”

Loki scoffed, and she knew his answer. She suspected she’d known it already.

“ _I_ never married,” he countered.

“Well that’s the difference, isn’t it?” Sigyn gripped the rail on either side of her, thinking. “See, the trouble is, I’m not sure I can justify it to you. It was… a matter of circumstance more so than anything else.”

Loki’s hand covered hers, and she looked up. To her surprise, he was smiling.

“I find it difficult to believe you had no other offers,” he said slyly.

Sigyn rolled her eyes and shrugged noncommittally. To entertain the possibilities that might have come to her if she’d declined Theoric quickly led her to wonder what might have happened if she’d met Loki back then. It was a treacherous train of thought.

Something in her, something unreachable and unexplainable, was fulfilled with Loki (despite how single-minded he had the capability to be), and she was quite certain he felt it, too. Funnily, however, he seemed determined to hide the nature of his feelings from her, as if she had no way of knowing. A talented liar he may have been, but he was a man nonetheless, and Sigyn knew enough about men to be getting on with.

“Perhaps there might have been, but he was the first. I just didn’t know any better, and I was afraid there would be no others. I had it in my head that my marriage could serve to uphold what remained of my family.”

Loki appeared disconcerted by this. “I thought you said your father was a successful man, a well-respected one?”

“Well, yes—” Sigyn began.

“Remind me of his name?”

“Ormi Stefánson.”

Loki’s finger tapped thoughtfully on the back of her hand. “I may have had the pleasure…” he mused.

“If you did, you would have been very young,” said Sigyn, pushing away from the rail. “He didn’t often come to court after he married my mother. Nor did the rest of us in accordance with his wishes. It wasn’t until I came of age that my mother finally convinced him that I should be presented.”

“And that was when you met Theoric?”

“No, not straight away. Even if I had, I wasn’t in any particular rush to marry then.”

“I don’t doubt you were the recipient of a fair bit of attention, nevertheless,” said Loki, mischievously. “Not all of it motivated by such respectable intentions as marriage.”

Sigyn smiled a little, shaking her head. He wasn’t wrong. She had a funny feeling, however, he was fishing for the intimate details of any past intrigues. Frankly, after almost a month spent in one another’s company, Sigyn considered it a small wonder that he’d never yet invited her to his private chambers. She thought she’d made it quite clear that such an offer would be entirely welcome, but perhaps she was mistaken.

“I didn’t realize the nature of it at the time. Though now I understand why my father thought it an unsuitable place. He never enjoyed it much himself.”

“He sounds clever, your father,” Loki chuckled.

“Oh yes, he was,” she agreed freely, slipping her arms around him. “You’d have liked him.”

Loki raised a brow, smirking slightly. “And would he have liked me?”

“More so than he would have Theoric,” she assured him. Ormi would have thought Theoric vile, Sigyn had long been sure of it. But in Loki, he may have seen something akin to himself.

Pleased with this assessment, Loki leaned forward, placing a single kiss on her forehead, smiling at her in a way that stirred something in her she’d only ever felt with him, something that made her feel safe in the deepest sense. It made her hopeful, though of what she couldn’t quite say.

“Papa’s successes were all academic,” she went on to explain. “Not the sort to be celebrated in the eyes of the Aesir, but truly a good man. Firm in his beliefs. He held great reverence for your father.”

“He is not living I take it?”

“The reserve guard was called up,” murmured Sigyn, shaking her head. “He would never have neglected his duty, but…he was not a warrior.”

“I’m so sorry, Sigyn” said Loki, and she knew he meant it.

With a wistful smile, she shook her head. “Well, it changed things,” she said pragmatically. “My mother, I think, feared the future of our family without him. Theoric came at just the right moment. With his money and position….. he was enticing. And he was kind at the time; I truly thought his affections genuine.”

Loki’s expression darkened. “I suppose he changed after the wedding.”

He was all too right. The truth of the matter had long plagued Sigyn. Theoric had indeed changed, and so had he changed her.

“He married a foolish girl and made a bitter woman of her.”

Loki’s brows drew together, and he tugged her closer to him. “Bitter? I don’t think so in the least,” he breathed.

He kissed her softly, his tongue grazing her parted lips. Then, far too soon for Sigyn’s liking, he broke away.

“No, far from bitter, by my estimation,” he said decidedly, brushing a stray curl from her face. She laughed and pulled him back to her.

“Come to think of it,” said Sigyn later, as they were leaving the terrace, “I’m surprised you _haven’t_ married. Is there not pressure to do so for a prince?”

Loki let out a snort, and shook his head. “None at all,” he said flatly. “If anything, such pressure would be for Thor.”

The notion made Sigyn laugh aloud as she’d become far more prone to do in recent weeks.

“I don’t anticipate that happening anytime soon.”

Loki smiled. “Nor I,” he agreed. “But he grows ever closer to the throne, and I suspect the realm should like him to have a queen sooner rather than later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ladies-in-waiting to Frigga were a handful of the most accomplished and well-bred women in the realm. Each was a courtier in her own right who had, in some way, earned the favor of the queen. Dancers, artists, and masters of languages alike, they were not her attendants so much as they were her friends and confidants, and they set the standard of civility and virtue. Save for one, of course, thought Loki with a little smirk— Lady Sigyn Ormidóttir, the most recently elevated addition to their ranks.

It came as no surprise to Loki that he should find his mother in this particular parlor, for she had always favored it. It was a magnificent space, its ceilings soaring, three of its walls lined with arching, open windows that exhibited a beautiful view of the city beyond. The room’s occupants, at least a dozen in number, busied themselves with various tasks. Several sat around at table with the queen herself, while others sat quietly with books or embroidery and yet another played the piano in the corner— though, Loki noted smugly, she played with far less artistry than Sigyn.

Sigyn herself was deep in conversation with her sister, Ásdís. No matter. He would simply wait for her to notice his presence.

Loki strode towards his mother, returning the cordial greetings offered by the others as he reached the table. He crouched down beside Frigga’s chair.

“Good morning, Mother.”

“Gracing me with your presence again, darling?” she asked airily, sorting through a number of papers that lay scattered in front of her. “My, you’ve been awfully attentive lately.”

Attentive he may have been, but not to her. Even as she spoke, his eyes were on Sigyn, catching the pinched look of agitation on her face. To the best of his ability, he tried to assess the situation, but Frigga was waiting for a reply. He wrenched his eyes from Sigyn.

“I see no crime in that,” said Loki. “I merely enjoy your company.”

His honeyed tone did next to nothing to persuade his mother of the truth in his words. Nonetheless, Frigga smiled.

“While I don’t think that untrue, I know there are other women in this room whose company you’d prefer.”

“Prefer over you?” scoffed Loki. “Don’t be absurd.”

He kissed her cheek, and she swatted him away with a roll of her eyes.

“If you’ve nothing better to do, I’d be happy to put you to work. There’s plenty to be done for your brother’s birthday celebration next week.”

With a smile sweet as his, she offered him a list of tasks from the assorted papers. Loki’s expression soured.

“A tempting offer,” he said, adjusting his tunic and straightening up, “but I think I can manage to otherwise occupy myself.”

Across the room, Sigyn, too, stood suddenly, looking more than a little flustered. Glaring at her sister who had not risen, Sigyn swallowed hard, looking as though she would very much like to say something. The next moment, however, she turned and left the room.

Frigga tutted softly, the abrupt exit not escaping her notice.

“A little caution would not go amiss, my dear, when it comes to how you choose to occupy yourself,” the queen said to her son softly. “There are eyes that follow wherever we go.”

The meaning in her words was too clear to mistake, but Loki did not wish to hear them. He excused himself tersely and made for the door, passing Ásdís on his way. A familiar prickling sensation on the back on his neck told him there were indeed eyes on him. He dismissed the thought, presuming he was still under his mother’s watch.

He picked up his pace when he reached the corridor. It did not take him long to catch up.

“Sigyn!”

Sigyn looked back over her shoulder. When she saw that it was him, she stopped. No sooner had he closed the distance between them when her arms were around him. Her behavior served as something of a red flag; it was unlike her to initiate such a risky display when someone might round the corner any moment.

“Has something happened?” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Sigyn shook her head. “I just needed a moment…. bit of fresh air, perhaps.”

Loki drew back so as to look properly at her and ascertain whether she was lying. She was concealing something, certainly, but he wouldn’t press for answers now.

“Of course.” Though he knew the matter would not cease to pester him, a bit of suspense seemed an equal price to pay for the smile she bestowed upon him for letting the subject drop. He took both of her hands in his.

“Take a walk with me in the gardens,” he suggested.

Sigyn sighed ruefully and shook her head again. “I cannot. Theoric is on the training grounds again today. It would be careless.”

“And this is not?” With a devilish grin, Loki gestured to their joined hands. Quickly, before she could reply, he ushered her into a nearby alcove, out of sight.

“Is this much better?” scoffed Sigyn, though she was smiling up at him. That damned smile. He suspected it would be his very undoing.

Laughing, Loki leaned closer, bracing himself with one hand on the wall behind her. “Marginally.”

It was she who kissed him now, and though it conflicted with Loki’s lately cautious instinct given the delicate nature of their relationship, his prudence always fell by the wayside the instant her lips met his. This time was no exception. Today, more so than ever, he could not help himself. She overwhelmed him, and he could only press himself against her and kiss her hard.

He groaned softly when her hands began to roam. “Sigyn…” he cautioned and she stilled, understanding written on her face. Loki gave a weary chuckle, resting his chin atop her head and stroking her hair. For a moment they stood in silent embrace.

“I’m sure we can find a suitable alternative to the gardens,” he said at last. “Shall we?”


	9. Chapter 8

_“Á sdís, don’t be ridiculous, I’m not looking at anyone, ” said Sigyn, turning her eyes back to her book. Loki’s book, she corrected herself silently, gripping the most recent of his recommendations more tightly. If Ásdís were going to insist upon teasing her, Sigyn wished she had chosen to do so anywhere but here where they were surrounded by ladies of the court who might spread anything they overheard like wildfire if they supposed it to be true. _

_ Meanwhile, though Loki was kneeling beside Frigga on the other side of the room, Sigyn could feel his eyes on her. Admittedly, when he first entered she had indeed been trying to catch his eye, but she now wished very much that he would look away. _

_“ You can’t pretend to be oblivious to the way someone is looking at _ you _,"_ _Á sdís pressed. She tilted her head in Loki’s direction, grinning in the exasperating way that Sigyn was quite certain only a younger sister with the intent of teasing the elder could manage. Whether he saw  Ásdís looking or his mother had recaptured his attention, Loki turned away._

_“ Well, Valhalla forbid …” Sigyn muttered._

_There was only so much indifference Sigyn could feign, and she feared it was transparent. But Á sdís,  still smiling, forced Sigyn to remind herself that her sister had no way of knowing that her accusations had any truth to them at all. She could suspect nothing and almost certainly was only looking to get a rise out of her, as further proven when she continued, nudging Sigyn playfully._

_“ I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you, dear sister. ” _

_Á sdís cast a cursory glance around them, and though she saw that there was no one within earshot,  she dropped her voice to a whisper before divulging what she knew with an air of importance. _

_“I really shouldn’t say so, and y ou mustn’t tell anyone,” hissed Ásdís.  “ But I think he has a mistress.”_

_Sigyn felt as though she had been plunged into icy water, but she didn ’t let on. Whatever  Ásdís thought she knew, she didn’t seem to think her sister played any part in it. Even so, Sigyn found it deeply disturbing to know that they might have been seen when they had been nothing but careful._

_“ Even if that were true, she couldn’t be called his mistress; he isn’t married,”  said Sigyn, keeping her expression studiously unaffected._

_ Á sd í s pursed her lips, clearly ruffled by her sister ’ s disinterest in what she consider to be the pinnacle of thrilling gossip.  _

_“ Yes, well call her whatever you like,” she retorted.  “ Lukas saw the prince with her. They were in the king’s box at the theatre, but the distance was too great for him to make out who she was. ”_

_Sigyn scoffed. “ It should come as no surprise to you,  Ásdís, that the prince should be spotted with a woman. I ’m sure she’s not the first he has entertained. ”_

_“ Yes, but I was never under the impression that any of them held any interest to him beyond the bedroom. ”_

_“Á sdís, please. That’s vulgar,”  snapped Sigyn, frowning. She knew there was truth in her sister’s words, but it was entirely inappropriate to comment upon, never mind its effect upon Sigyn; this was far from the first time she ’ d wondered why so many others had shared with Loki what she had not._

_“ I shouldn’t even tease you. It’s no fun,” sighed Ásdís, clearly uninterested in being reprimanded.  “If you were sharing anyone’s bed, you wouldn’t be so tightly wound …”_

_“ By that measure, you ought not to have an iota of tension in your entire being. ”_

_ Though her words had been unmistakably cold and seemingly unprovoked, Á sd í s could not have known just how intensely sensitive the subject was at present, and Sigyn ’ s response sounded harsher than she had intended. Its effect was immediate, however, her sister ’ s expression shifting to one of clear reproach and disdain. _

_“ I can’t see how that’s any of your business,”  she hissed._

_“ Yet you concern yourself with a man whose gaze happens to linger on me? ” asked  Sigyn in disbelief, feeling nothing she’d said warranted such sudden nastiness._

_ Á sd _í_ s merely shrugged, turning her nose up at her sister.  _

_“ Perhaps you should take care not to give anyone else cause to do so, Sigyn. People might talk. ”_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A knock on Sigyn’s bedroom door chased away all thoughts of her sister. Though they were only thoughts, she didn’t dare stew over them in the company of those from whom she wished to conceal her guilt lest she betray something. She could only hope that when next she saw her sister, they could put the incident to rest. For now, she would put it from her mind.

“Come in,” she called, reaching for the bedside table to slide shut the drawer which hid a recently purchased vial of contraceptive draft, but otherwise making no move to get up. 

She was lying on her bed, rifling through the small box that contained all of her jewels. Her hair had already been pinned back, though the majority of it remained in its loose curls down her back in what seemed a suitable compromise of hers and Theoric’s preferences.

Kata opened the door, a large bag draped over her arms.

“Here it is, my lady,” she said brightly, crossing to the bed and laying the garment bag out beside Sigyn. “It had a few creases in it when it arrived, but I’ve managed to get the better of them.”

As she spoke, she revealed the dress that Sigyn had ordered but had yet to see. She was not disappointed. Just as the tailor had assured her, the pairing of feather-light fabric and hard gold plating was breathtaking. Sigyn sat up to get a better look, spreading the dress out in front of her and marveling at the details. The immodest aspects of this particular gown did not trouble her in the least, though one strategically placed cutout gave her pause.

“A corset will show right through that,” she murmured, tracing her finger around it.

“I… don’t think it’s meant to be worn with a corset, my lady,” said Kata tactfully.

“Oh! Yes, of course you’re right.”

Sigyn shook her head as a flutter of nerves beat against her chest. She knew the excitement that surrounded this night was the perfect guise for what she meant to do; the palace would be filled with as many people as was conceivable, and she would be but one of many women dressed in their finest in hopes of tempting a man …  though Sigyn ’ s intentions were even less honorable than most.

By no means was Sigyn an innocent. Nevertheless, she knew that there was far greater pleasure to be had in certain pursuits than she had ever experienced. Wistfully, she recalled the sordid stories  Á sd í s had shared with her shortly after her own marriage, the tales she ’ d heard whispered between giggling women at court, stories that an envious Sigyn had always tried very hard to ignore. Even during the time Theoric had been in the habit of sharing her bed, he had never concerned himself with anything beyond his own wishes. Sigyn had a sneaking suspicion things would be very different with Loki, and she intended to find out. This evening if she could manage it.

She looked up at her maid with a smile. “Thank you, Kata,” she said earnestly, reaching for her hand. “It looks wonderful. Certainly  befitting a very grand occasion. ”

“ I can ’ t imagine anything more beautiful, ”  Kata agreed, helping Sigyn to her feet.

Though the dress could be worn with no such a garment, the laces up the back in themselves were very like a corset and took quite a bit of work on Kata ’ s part —  and very little breathing on Sigyn ’ s —  to thread and tighten them. When at last Kata was satisfied that everything was in place, she stepped back to look at her handiwork.

“ You ’ ll turn heads, my lady, ”  she declared. Sigyn laughed.

“ I do hope so, ”  she replied as she stepped in front of the mirror. A tingle of excitement shot through her. Surely Loki could not fail to be encouraged by this. Her thoughts became more treacherous yet, imaging Loki ’ s hands tangling in her hair … her gown crumpled at the foot of his bed …

“ Maybe even His Lordship ’ s, ”  suggested Kata from behind her. Rather taken aback by this, Sigyn looked around to see Kata repressing a small smile. Sigyn shook her head.

“ Well, let ’ s not get too carried away, ”  she chuckled.

“ But he has been in better spirits of late, ”  said Kata, opening the box that contained Sigyn ’ s matching, gold-embellished shoes.  “ Or so it would seem. ”

“ Relatively so. I ’ ve been making an effort to ensure it remains that way. ”

Since her involvement with Loki had begun, Sigyn had indeed made a point of remaining on pleasant terms with Theoric. His temper was and always had been unpredictable, but in light of her recent transgressions, she wished more than ever not to give him reason to be angry with her. It had not been difficult thus far; he had been left emotionally raw by the deaths in his unit and more willing accept Sigyn ’ s new behavior than he otherwise might have been. 

Despicable though she knew it was, she had to admit she ’ d taken a few cues from Loki, a clever wordsmith if ever there was one. She found that it took little effort to manipulate Theoric. It was a strange reversal of roles and one that Theoric was in no way aware of. He ’ d never have believed her capable of it nor imagined she had any reason to make such an attempt.

“ I don ’ t think there ’ s any harm in that, ”  said Kata, setting the heels in front of Sigyn.  “ I daresay it may even prove useful. ”

“ I know, ”  Sigyn chuckled, sliding into the shoes one by one.  “ You ’ ve said so before. ”

The topic had been discussed at length and had at first caused Sigyn to be horribly certain that Kata knew exactly what was going on, that she ’ d pieced everything together and traced it all back to Loki himself. After all, it was she who ’ d met Sigyn at the kitchen door after her night at the symphony, and they lived in such close proximity that there was very little that could go unnoticed for long. But if Kata knew something was amiss, she had said nothing, suggesting only that a happier Theoric might prove quite advantageous to Sigyn.

As if on cue, another knock, far heavier than Kata ’ s had been, came from the door.

“ Sigyn, ”  called Theoric, rattling the locked doorknob.

“ Just a moment! ”  said Sigyn. As she smoothed everything into place, Kata hurried past her and opened the door.

“ My lord, ”  she said, bowing her head as he strode past her into the room.

“ Run along downstairs, and ask the driver to bring the carriage around. ”

Kata nodded and walked off briskly. Sigyn watched her go in the mirror, then turned to face her husband, smiling.

“ What do you think? ”  she asked brightly,  spreading her arms to either side .  “ Will this do? ”

Theoric did not seem to have a single objection. He cleared his throat.  “ Indeed it will. ”

“ The gold reminded me of your armor, ”  she said, coming around the bed to meet him. Though it was not entirely true of course, it was perfectly convenient that the armor she had sought to match was of a similar shade.

She accompanied her dishonesty with that of another sort as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Of all the things Theoric might have anticipated, however, this clearly came as a surprise.

“ I know everything has been difficult these past weeks, ”  Sigyn said gently, looking up at him,  “ but I do hope you ’ re able to have a pleasant evening. ”

“ I wish you the same, ” he said, patting her hand uncertainly. “ I ’ ll be taking some of the men out for drinks at the end of the night. I ’ ll leave the carriage for you. ”

Sigyn refrained from pursing her lips. Out for drinks. He spoke as if there weren’t enough drink at the palace, as if he expected she wouldn’t guess the nature of his true plans. She was sure there would be drinking, but there would be other things, too. 

It was a feeble lie as far as she was concerned, but she reminded herself that she’d rather he resort to others than come anywhere near her. It wasn’t quite as though she were innocent either.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” said Sigyn. A carriage sitting at the palace all night would serve as evidence she would be unable to hide. “It’s very unlikely I’ll stay late.”

Theoric frowned.

“I won’t have you out on your own,” he said firmly.

“Then I’ll ride back with Á sd í s ,” said Sigyn, reminding herself once again that she would soon need to mend her fences with Á sd í s if she were to continue using her as a scapegoat. Heavens forbid Theoric should ever mention to Á sd í s the numerous occasions on which Sigyn had claimed to have spent the day with her when in fact she had been with Loki.

“ You ’ ll be glad to have means of getting home in the morning, ”  said Sigyn, confident he would not argue with her on this point.  “ I know that pub you like; it ’ s an age from this part of town. ”

As she’d hoped, he seemed unwilling to discuss the subject of his nocturnal activities any further and fell silent, giving a solitary nod of agreement.

Sigyn smiled and brushed past him out of the room.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There were those, Loki imagined, who might think that the two sons of Odin, his heirs and the princes of the realm, had a great many reasons to dislike one another. Of course, it wasn’t true. Despite the natural competition between them, bickering, and envy even, they were blood. Though Loki would have admitted it to no one, he admired his brother in many regards and could even enjoy his company if he were in the right frame of mind. None of this, however, made Thor’s birthday celebration any more tolerable.

Loki had spoken only briefly with Thor before any guests had arrived, an interaction which had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Interested in discussing only one subject, Thor had carried on about the daughter of the local tanner, a pretty blonde with sharp features and the most recent recipient of his attentions.

“You could do with a bit of fun tonight, too,” Thor had advised Loki, clapping him on the back. “I don’t recall having seen you with a single woman in weeks.”

“That doesn’t mean I have not been,” Loki retorted. “Forgive me for not inviting you, brother, but your presence is not desired on every occasion, despite what you may think.”

Much to Loki’s irritation, Thor had found this enormously entertaining.

“Afraid I might convince you latest conquest that she would find greater pleasure elsewhere?” he taunted causing Loki to clench his jaw. 

There was nothing amusing to him about the suggestion of Sigyn with Thor. It was enough to know he shared her with Theoric.

“Hardly,” Loki grit out.

Oblivious to his brother’s dismay, Thor merely chuckled. 

“Well, I wish you luck this evening,” he said cheerfully. “Though I doubt your fortunes will exceed my own.”

Loathe though he was to admit it, Loki suspected his brother might be right.

In the first place, there was the matter of the crowds, which never failed to be positively staggering on these occasions,  spilling right out of the palace and into the gardens. No one refused an invitation to such an event, and it seemed as though at least half the realm had been invited. A mere fraction had found seats at dinner, and when the last plate had been cleared, all had been keen to wish Thor many happy returns, effectively driving Loki from the dining room and into one of the many other rooms the party filled.

No moment of tranquility, however, was to be afforded to him. It seemed Thor was not the only one who se attention was sought after. Loki was stopped frequently by those he passed, many of whom were already drunk. Others were quick to show off their sisters or daughters who smiled and batted their eyes at him. He mustered up what formal graces he could, but moved on from each quickly. The thought of maneuvering himself and a partner across the overcrowded dance floor was daunting. There was only woman who might have persuaded him otherwise, and he could not seem to find her.

At last, she caught his eye. Near the wall, nursing a glass of wine, Sigyn stood alone, but by no means was the matter of approaching her made simpler by this fact. 

From the gold of her shoes to the detailing of the same shade that decorated her breasts and shoulders, she was glowing with the same warmth he knew could just as easily be achieved through her touch. The dress accentuated her every feature, but it was the absence of dress in the center of her chest left him speechless. Her sternum was bare, circled by the same shimmering gold trim that decorated her décolletage and several other parts of her where he desperately he wished to expose yet more skin to his touch.

He composed himself quickly, for he suspected Sigyn would be unimpressed by gobsmacked staring. Navigating the crowd quickly, he snuck up behind her, saying nothing and waiting just over her shoulder for her to spot him in her peripheral. To anyone around them, they would seem only to be standing in proximity to one another, and nothing unseemly could be derived from that.

Sigyn must have understood this. Though she caught sight of him almost immediately, she merely smiled and did not turn around.

“Hello.”

“Having fun?” Loki asked, leaning slightly nearer her ear, watching with delight as goose bumps sprung up where his breath had tickled her neck. The spectacular sarcasm with which she replied, however, seemed oblivious to the reaction he’d gleaned from her skin.

“Oh tremendously. Look.” She gestured with her glass towards a young maiden who was standing quite close to Theoric, laughing too much at something he had just said to her. “I’ve been replaced already,”

“Ah, so you have,” said Loki with no trace of sympathy, eyeing the girl who he knew to be the tanner’s daughter. He’d had the pleasure of meeting her at dinner, though Thor need not know anything of the conversation between them. She’d seemed to Loki to be a rather silly girl, but she was young and undoubtedly well-meaning. Naturally, Loki could not allow his brother to get his wish after he had— albeit unknowingly— suggested that Sigyn might find greater pleasure with him. So he’d found a suitable alternative to keep her occupied, one that was beneficial to him in more ways than one.

“They seem to be getting on, don’t they? I told her she’d like him…“

Sigyn looked over her shoulder for the first time, her lips pursed in exasperation.

“You didn’t.”

“Of course I did,” he said lightly, taking her drink and sipping it himself. She might feign annoyance, but she failed to hide the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. 

“Now you’re rid of him, you might consider dancing with me,” Loki advised, but Sigyn shook her head, facing front once again.

“I’m not particularly in the mood for a party.”

“I am open to suggestions,” he said, admiring the back of her dress, allowing his gaze to linger on her shoulders. He lifted his hand to one errant curl and twirled his thumb around its tip, unbeknownst to her.

“Well my husband is distracted,” said Sigyn as Loki dropped his hand. “Already drunk, and not to be expected home tonight. If we were to slip away, he wouldn’t be any the wiser.” 

She looked back at him, biting her lip. “Unless you’re otherwise inclined, of course.”

Loki chuckled. “And to where exactly,” he said, setting aside her now empty glass, “do you propose we slip away?”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter so long as there’s no chance of being seen,” said Sigyn with a shrug.

“Seeing as the palace is full to bursting, that rather limits our options, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve not yet seen your chambers,” she suggested with a readiness he’d not expected. “There, perhaps?”

Loki let out a low breath. It would be far more difficult to push indecent thoughts from his head if she came anywhere near his bed.

“Sigyn,” he muttered, shaking his head, “you make it incredibly temping to behave in a fashion that is less than civilized.”

“Well, I am certainly trying.” 

It was only then that Loki realized she was being purposefully suggestive. Endeavoring to give her no cause to see him as the domineering, uncaring figure she saw her husband as, he had thus far been exceedingly conscious of appearing overeager, resolving that he would make no move if and until she made it clear that she wanted him to. If ever she had hinted at anything before, he’d dismissed it; certain his own wishful thinking had caused him to misconstrue her meaning.

There was no mistaking her sincerity now, however. Suddenly every word she’d spoken since he’d joined her made perfect sense, as did the wine— which so rarely she drank— and the positively mouth-watering dress. Her face was earnest, her voice edging on exasperation, and Loki was in no position to disappoint. In fact, the moment it became clear to him that she’d come here tonight with an utterly express intent, it was all he could do to keep from carrying her from the hall at once.

“Are you quite sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, love?” he whispered, leaning closer to her once more. “Once I’ve had you, I will never stop wanting more.”

She looked up at him, her clear blue eyes shining, and smiled.

“Yes, I’m counting on that.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Loki showed her into the large chamber, a dimly lit space, lined with ceiling-high bookshelves and outfitted with inviting chairs, a plush sofa, an impressive fireplace —  and most notably, a very large bed. She looked up at the vaulted ceilings. Despite its size and grandeur, it was somehow more intimate than any other part of the palace, enclosed and warm. A suitable place, she thought, to bear witness to her greatest secret.

The door clicked shut behind her, and suddenly anticipation flooded her body anew. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she glanced back at Loki. He reached for her before she could speak, his urgent kisses voracious as they never had been before. His inhibitions had been shed along with her reassurances downstairs, and she had no wish for it to be otherwise.

She found herself suddenly pinned against the door as Loki’s mouth travelled to her neck, his breath already short and hot against her skin.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he growled, and Sigyn shuddered, her body reacting in ways she’d almost worried it had forgotten how to. She wanted him, too.

Loki’s nimble fingers were soon tugging at the laces down the back of her gown. At this rate, Sigyn thought, it would be a miracle if they made it to the bed. The next instant, however, he had swept her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed. He set her down with a kiss and kicked off his boots before lowering himself over her.

Her hands moved to his armor, but fumbled helplessly with the latches. Theoric had never come to her fully clothed; never had they been caught up in such desire that there was no time for such things.

Loki noticed her struggling and laughed, sitting back on his haunches. “Allow me.”

He made quick work of the plating, but the respite was long enough for Sigyn’s nerves to catch up with her. She was suddenly aware of how few garments remained between her and the man between her knees, the man who she so desperately craved.

Her blood raced in her veins and she was not quite certain whether it did so in nervousness or arousal. She turned her attention, instead, to the simpler matter of what was below her rather than above her and raked her hands through the dense furs that covered the bed.

“It’s so soft,” she remarked.

Loki’s eyes flickered up as he freed himself of his chest plate. When he realized to what she was referring, he chuckled.

“I can see I’ll have to work harder if I am to keep your attention,” he teased. “For a moment, I thought you were expressing doubt in my capability to make love to you.”

She smiled. “I have nothing but the greatest confidence in that.”

“As you should,” said Loki, discarding the last of his armor and his tunic and turning back to her. 

Slowly, his hands slid up her legs, taking the hem of her dress with them. His lips found hers once more and in lieu of desire, Sigyn felt her worries slip away. Having bunched her skirts around her waist, Loki’s hand found its way to the valley of her breasts, tracing the deep v of her neckline so covetously she thought she would melt under his touch. This thought was quickly replaced with another, however, as the sharp sound of ripping fabric reached her ears.

“If you ruin this, Loki, I swear…” 

“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he said slyly, nibbling at her ear, and again he tugged at the dress. Only when he had torn it nearly in two, did he pause.

“Ah, I was wondering…” he said softly, gazing down at her. “It didn’t seem the sort of dress to lend itself kindly to the wearing of certain undergarments….”

He slipped a hand beneath her, and she arched her back so he might pull the gown from under her.

“You are magnificent, Sigyn,” Loki whispered. His urgency seemed to have been temporarily abated though the desire in his eyes had not. He seemed keen to take her all in. With painstaking care and tenderness that had not been afforded to the dress, he removed the rest of her garments one by one, right down to her shoes. With every inch of skin he exposed, he found somewhere new to kiss as though he treasured nothing so highly as she. At last he tossed the last of her clothing to the floor, leaving her bare.

His eyes raked over every inch of her, his stare intense and his own chest heaving with anticipation. Riddled with sudden self-consciousness, Sigyn felt her face grow hot, and she drew her knees up slightly.

Loki brushed Sigyn’s hair from her forehead and gently tilted her chin so she would look at him.

“Is this what you want?” Loki asked, his voice low.

“More than anything.”

“Then trust me… and let yourself relax.” Loki’s fingertips danced gently across her low belly and Sigyn’s eyes fluttered shut.

“How long has it been since anyone touched you like this?”

Sigyn’s breath caught.

“How long, love?”

“I—years,” she said breathlessly, punctuating the confession with a moan. Loki nodded and leaned forwards to kiss her again, tugging her bottom lip between his teeth.

“I’d have guessed as much,” he purred, his skillful touch in addition to the warmth of his mouth now moved to her breast rendering her incapable of coherent response.

Years had passed since she’d last lain with her husband, that much was true, but never in her life had she been touched like this by another. There was a strange tenderness in it which she had never known as well as a burning passion that made her want to weep in his arms. 

The desires of his own body were unmistakable, yet he only seemed interested in worshiping every inch of hers. Finally, she took matters into her own hands and reached for the laces of his breeches. He stilled as she slid the heavy material off his hips, her hands taking time to skim over his toned backside. When she’d cast the trousers aside, he caught her hands, and pinned them to the mattress. Grinding against her slowly, he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and groaned.

“I need you,” he said, his voice muffled, his skin damp against hers.

“You have me…don’t make me wait.”

She’d never been made to cry out in pleasure nor arch against her lover, but then she’d never imagined anything could be like this. Gone was Loki’s restraint, and though he began slowly, awaiting her assurances and her prompting, he soon picked up speed, and her body seemed to awaken when joined with his. She was no mere instrument of his pleasure; they moved together as she never had with Theoric.

If she had felt vulnerable before, it was nothing to how Loki looked above her now. In amazement, she watched as his face contorted, sweat beaded on his brow, his eyes all the while searching her own face. He continued to kiss her, deeply and diligently, asking her not to close her eyes, but when tension coiled in her abdomen and her muscles tightened, she could no longer oblige.

Her nails dug into his skin as she held onto him, crying out in ecstasy as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She’d hardly begun to tense when he came apart as well, and she realized he’d been waiting for her. Panting, she watched as every last defense dropped, leaving him wholly exposed to her, utterly unarmed. Perhaps the sight was not unique to her, but it tugged at her heart in the most primal way, and she knew she would never feel it for anyone but him.

With a groan, Loki’s body sagged. He caught his weight on his forearms, panting, his face mere inches from hers. 

Breathless, Sigyn reached up and brushed her fingers over his cheek. Eyes still shut, Loki smiled. He turned his head to press a kiss to her palm then let his head fall onto her chest.

A moment passed in silence but for the sound of their breathing and the crackling coming from the hearth before Loki spoke. 

“You don’t intend to go home tonight, do you?”

Sigyn shook her head. 

“No,” she said, combing her fingers through his hair. “No, I’ll go in the morning. I don’t think I could stand the empty house. Besides,” she smiled, “I want to sleep beside you.”

Loki chuckled and raised his head.

“Oh dear… Who said anything about sleeping?” 


	10. Chapter 9

The dawn broke in a sort of blissful stillness that Sigyn would have been happy to remain in forever. As the haze of sleep began to lift, she became slowly aware of the warmth of Loki’s bed, of his body pressed close to hers, and of his fingers tracing lazy circles on her hip. Beyond the windows, the city, still shrouded in darkness, slept on, but Sigyn had nagging suspicion that it would not remain so for long.

Loki’s lips brushed against the back of her neck, efficiently driving away all wayward thoughts. Sigyn sighed softly as Loki nipped and sucked along her shoulder.

“Morning,” he said huskily, the warmth of his breath tickling the skin made wet by his kisses.

“Not quite though, is it?”

Loki gave a hoarse chuckle, his hand slipping over the curve of her hip to her low stomach. “I won’t argue if it means you’ll stay longer.”

Sigyn looked over her shoulder, smiling. “That certainly sounds like a deal I can make.”

Shaking his head, Loki smirked and pulled her closer to him.

“Don’t tempt me, love” warned Loki. “You’ll find I have no remaining self-restraint whatsoever.”

Sigyn rolled over to face him and propped her head up on her hand. “I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

“It is if you intend to get home before your husband misses you.”

“What husband?” said Sigyn, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. True to his word, Loki did not protest in the slightest. His hands slid around her waist as she moved to straddle his torso, and she felt a newly familiar thrill shoot through her.

Every show of physical closeness was a strange privilege for Sigyn, who had been long starved of anything of the sort. Here, however, she was not alone. She had been reminded of that all night by her nearly constant contact with Loki. There was an overwhelming desire to explore every inch of him, to know his body in a way she’d never known that of another, and she found immense pleasure simply in watching him respond to her.

He’d spent the night acquainting himself with her, too. As though committing it all to memory, his gaze often drifted from her face to her shoulders, her breasts, her hands… Somehow, the same stare under which Sigyn had felt initially uncomfortable last night had become a comfort, yet another intimacy just as meaningful as the others they had shared.

“I like waking up with you,” whispered Sigyn.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Loki hummed his agreement.

“Indeed…” he said, his voice taking on a tone of amusement. “It’s especially nice considering you’ve stopped kicking me since you’ve woken.”

“Come off it. I didn’t kick you,” said Sigyn indignantly.

Loki smirked, his hands gliding down her back. “No? I’ll show you the bruises if you need evidence.”

With a frown, Sigyn sat back, combing her own fingers through her hair. “You aren’t serious?”

“I am. I must say, when I invited you to bed, I didn’t expect you to spend the night driving your heels into my shins. One would almost think you had an unsatisfactory evening.”

Sigyn’s cheeks grew warm. “Well we both know that much isn’t true.”

“I said almost,” Loki reminded her. With skillful swiftness, he rolled them both over so she that was on her back beneath him.

Sigyn chuckled, brushing her fingers against his cheek, marveling at his beauty. With the porcelain of his skin and the sharpness of the angles of which he was built, on more than one occasion, Sigyn had imagined that he could very well have been sculpted from marble. His appearance this morning, however, hardly lent itself to this image. His hair was mused and his eyes still heavy with sleep just as hers must have been.

“But,” said Loki, mischievously, “it wasn’t just the kicking.”

Sigyn raised a brow. “Oh, really?”

Loki nodded, turning his head to kiss the inside of her wrist. “Really,” he rumbled. “You were quite vocal as well…  _Moaning_  my name.”

He continued to kiss his way along her arm. The corners of Sigyn’s lips twitched.

“Is that right?”

“Yes. All night.”

“I’m sure.”

He looked up, catching the glint of laughter in her eyes. “Laugh all you want,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers and pinning her hands in place. “I could make it a reality right this moment if I wished.”

He leaned down to kiss her, bringing a flush to her cheeks all over again. He was everywhere, gentle but desirous. His hands released hers, and Sigyn clutched him closer, feeling the taut muscles of his shoulders and back contracting beneath her hands as he stole the breath from her chest.

“Does this mean I’ll be invited back?” she asked playfully as he broke the kiss. “Despite your bruises?”

Loki grinned a very wide grin.

“The odds look pretty good.”

Pleased with this answer, Sigyn closed her eyes, and Loki rested his head on her chest. The moment filled with silence. Sigyn felt Loki’s hold on her tighten; they both knew she would have to leave very soon.

“I  _am_  sorry,” she said sincerely. “I suppose I’m just not used to sharing a bed.”

Loki chuckled, and Sigyn felt it reverberating through him.

“Darling,” he said, “I’m not at all sorry to hear that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house was silent when Sigyn returned, signaling that Theoric was still out. Sigyn felt a spark of indignation upon considering what his absence implied, but she quickly reminded herself that she was no more innocent that him. Beyond the principal of the thing, there was nothing she could justify huffing about. Besides, she thought as she slipped out of her shoes and stole up the staircase that wrapped its way around the foyer, she and her continued secrecy were wholly dependent upon his absence.

As soon as Sigyn’s bedroom door was shut tightly behind her, the anxiety that had been her companion on the seemingly interminable walk home began to fall away, and in its place she swelled with pure, unbridled joy once again. Adrenaline coursed through her still, making her blood race. She felt as though something inside her were trying to get out, and she wished she could let it.

Sigyn flung herself onto the bed, a broad smile splitting across her face as she let thoughts of her night wash over her, thoughts of Loki’s touch, his voice in her ear, his mouth on hers as he had filled her and claimed her and made her feel cherished. Being with him was simple; it was uncomplicated. She could no longer remember why she had once feared it.

Moment after moment replayed itself in her mind, taking her back. Even as she hovered at the edge of sleep, uncertain of how much time had passed, she was unwilling to allow this feeling to slip away from her.

The moment she heard the creak of the floorboards as someone trudged their way into the house, however, she knew her resolve was going to be put to the test. She allowed herself another peaceful minute before she willed herself to sit up. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror as she did, Sigyn blanched at how thoroughly disheveled she looked. The beautiful arrangement her hair had begun the previous evening in had long since been a thing of the past. Her cheeks were ruddy and her pupils were wide. Most notably, her dress— newly repaired by Loki— did a positively shameful job of hiding the evidence of Loki’s affections.

Sigyn peeled herself out of the gown quickly (wishing very much as she did that Loki were there to aid the effort) and replaced it with her nightdress. In the bathroom, she splashed her face with water and dragged a comb through her hair and forced it into a hasty braid. Deeming the effort convincing, she returned to the bed and pulled down the covers, leaving them rumpled and looking thoroughly slept in.

She cast a cursory glance around the room as she snatched her robe from its hook and tied it loosely around her waist. There was no evidence she could see that would give Theoric any reason to suspect she’d been anywhere but precisely where she was meant to be.

Slipping back out onto the landing, her husband’s voice reached her ears. She paused to listen, hoping to gauge his frame of mind before she made her obligatory appearance, but she could make out nothing that was being said. Summoning a cheery demeanor, she started down the stairs and determined Theoric to be the in the sitting room.

“Good morn—“ Sigyn began as she entered the room, but the sentiment was still on her tongue when she realized her husband was not alone. Theoric and his guest turned towards Sigyn in one smooth motion, the former with indifference and the later with something akin to relief on his face.

“Ah, here she is.”

“Lukas!” Sigyn exclaimed, tensing immediately at the sight of her brother-in-law, and she hastily pulled the front of her robe closed. Ásdís’ words were conjured instantly from her memory, reminding Sigyn that the man in front of her had seen her with Loki at the theatre. Though she had no reason to believe he had recognized her, with the guilt of her infidelity so fresh, the sight of him with Theoric was enough to raise alarm.

Sigyn’s hands twisted anxiously as she turned all her thoughts towards keeping her composure. “I wasn’t expecting you. I’d have dressed if I’d known we had company.”

If Lukas suspected her of anything, he did not make it apparent. If anything, he seemed quite glad to see her.

“I couldn’t have you troubling yourself for me, Sigyn,” he said, his smile tight. “Anyway, I’m just on my way out.”

Indeed Theoric, who was slumped in his seat with his head lolling back, seemed to be providing poor company, his interest in the conversation nonexistent by Sigyn’s measure. Sleep was creeping over him, and Lukas seemed keen to use the moment to make his exit. In fact, he looked just about as uneasy as Sigyn felt.

In dawned on her very suddenly that wherever Theoric’s evening had taken him, Lukas had played part in it. Her jaw tightened, suddenly resentful towards her sister’s husband. Sigyn had never taken him to be the sort to stoop so low; he and Ásdís were meant to be happy.

“I’ll walk you out,” she offered tersely.

A loud snore from Theoric cut through the room before Lukas could reply. He jumped, looking round skittishly. When he noticed Sigyn watching him with barely sheathed annoyance, Lukas rubbed his neck rather sheepishly.

“Forgive me. It’s been a long night.”

“I imagine.”

Sigyn showed him back into the hall.  Conflict waged within her, tearing her between the desire to speak out on her sister’s behalf and the knowledge that it was not her place to do so. She’d never been one to pick a fight, and now, with this man of all people, was not the appropriate time to begin doing so.

“I’ve been meaning to speak to Ásdís,” Sigyn said, noting that he flinched at his wife’s mention. “I’m afraid she and I had a bit of an argument.”

“Yes, I did hear about that,” said Lukas distractedly. He cast a glance back towards the sitting room. Suddenly, he reached out and caught Sigyn by the elbow, halting her in her tracks.

“Sigyn.” His voice was hoarse. “The last thing I wish to do is upset you, but I feel I am obligated to tell you what went on last night.”

She stared at him with a mixture of revulsion and confusion before realization dawned on her. She could see the frantic distress in his eyes, and it was nothing like the blatant apathy in Theoric’s. She could compare it only to a look she’d seen flicker behind Loki’s eyes in his rare moments of uncertainty. It was the look of a man who loved his wife.

And Lukas thought Sigyn didn’t know. Again, she felt a pinprick of guilt for thinking of Loki, the accomplice in her own transgressions, when Lukas so anxiously had come here to make her aware of Theoric’s. Her anger with him melted away, and leaving in its place gratitude tinged with shame.

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “Allow me to spare you the trouble.”

Lukas, however, shook his head adamantly, wringing his hands.

“No, no. I insist. You ought to know.”

His insistence brought a weary smile to Sigyn’s face. “And so I do.”

She watched as Lukas made sense of this, his eyes widening and his jaw going slack. She might as well have told him she’d just come from the bed of Prince Loki for the absolutely appalled look on his face. “Come again?”

Sigyn sucked her lips between her teeth.

“I’m afraid you can have nothing to tell me that I don’t already know. Though I am terribly sorry you got mixed up in it.”

“Do you mean to say this has happened before?” he hissed.

“Quite often, as I understand.”

Lukas rubbed his temples, his fatigue no secret. “Good lord, Sigyn,” he muttered in disbelief. “Why have you never said?”

Sigyn gave a little huff and shrugged. “It’s not something I want widely know. Surely that’s understandable.”

Lukas nodded, still looking deeply disturbed.

“I suppose….”

“Please, Lukas, don’t let it trouble you. Every marriage has its difficulties,” she said, attempting a smile that felt very much like it was gagging her.

She suddenly saw herself as he must—a pitiful woman who had resigned herself to her wreck of a marriage in as dignified a manner as possible— and the sight made her cringe. Though she knew that at present she was none of those things, she was bitterly aware that she had been them for a very long time. While the image served perfectly as the camouflage she needed now, she could not help but resent it.

But at the mention of marriage, Lukas had gone very white.

“Oh Gods, if Ásdís were to find out about this…” he said weakly. His shaky fingers combed through his hair. Very suddenly, he looked up at Sigyn, eyes wide. “I assure you, I played no part in any of it. I would never—“

“I’m quite sure you wouldn’t,” Sigyn interrupted calmly, choosing to make no mention of accusations she had been ready to make of him mere minutes before. “Which is all the more reason to be honest with her.”

A little hypocritical, perhaps, but she was willing to play the mentor if it meant keeping Lukas from expending too much thought on her troubled marriage. She could make no sense why he, of all people, should be on the precipice of discovering her secret.

“Besides,” she added, “it’s a far better option than her finding out some other way.”

Lukas nodded and swallowed hard.

“I’d never have gone with him if I’d known,” he said, plainly desperate that she should see the entirety of the story. “We were just catching up, and when I told him about all the trouble Ásdís and I are having with this whole baby business, he offered to buy me a drink.”

Sigyn wet her lips uncertainly. “B-baby business?” she repeated

Lukas’ face fell, and Sigyn felt rather sorry for him. Not only had exhaustion clearly taken its toll, it was becoming quite clear that everything he had done and said since he’d last seen Ásdís would be looked upon with her disapproval.

“She didn’t say, did she?” Lukas muttered. “I thought… But she must not have wanted…”

“It’s alright,” Sigyn interjected. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Well I’ve already said it now, haven’t I?” said Lukas miserably. “Ásdís and I have been trying to conceive for quite some time. I hardly need add that we’ve been unsuccessful.”

Sigyn thoughts found their way back to her last conversation with her sister, to her own implication that Ásdís spent too much time in bed with her husband, a snappish response to Ásdís’ own snide comments. Then, Ásdís had seemed absurdly offended by the comment, but this new information shed light on exactly which nerve Sigyn had touched.

Sigyn covered her mouth. “Oh no. I can see what I did to upset her.”

Lukas looked suddenly hesitant. “Do you think you might…. talk to her?” he asked tentatively. “The more we fail, the more distant she becomes, and I simply don’t know what else to say.”

Sigyn nodded. She had every intention of putting things right with her sister; surely she could manage this as well. “I can certainly try.”

Lukas thanked her sheepishly. “You must think me awfully selfish to be asking you to help me, when it ought to be the other way around.”

Sigyn chuckled.

“Lukas,” she said kindly, “you’re under no obligation to help me.”

Much to her surprise, however, he did not seem relieved to hear this.

“There’s every obligation,” said Lukas with a frown. “You’re as much my sister as you are Ásdís’.”

Sigyn bit her lip. His kindness made her terribly uncomfortable. He’d uncovered but the smallest bit of the mess in this house, and found her to be the victim, deserving of his sympathy. Little did he know how dangerously close he continued to come to discovering her own offenses.

In her giddy happiness, her affair had seemed an uncomplicated matter. She wanted Loki; right now she had him. But it was an affair, nonetheless, and though the word was one she seldom allowed herself to think, she knew longevity was not in the nature of such things. How much longer, Sigyn wondered, could it continue before she lost the illusion of control entirely?

Nodding, she fixed her gaze on her hands. “Thank you.”

Lukas gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, and she looked up to see him smiling.

“I’d best be going,” he said. “Take care, Sigyn.” 


	11. Chapter 10

“Are you suggesting Theoric’s competency as a soldier has lessened?” asked Thor, quirking a brow.

Glancing with mild disinterest across the yard filled with warriors, Loki shrugged. On the far side of the yard stood Theoric leading his men in combat drills. Loki eyed the cause of his ever-growing frustration with thinly veiled contempt. “I suppose I am, yes.”

In truth, Loki knew the blame could be placed only with himself, and it traced back to the day he had made the very conscious decision to pursue Sigyn with the full awareness that she was the wife of another man. Then, Theoric had been no more than the owner of the hand on her waist, the title she was tied to, and the gaze that Loki was keen to avoid.

But what had once seemed of little consequence to Loki was now the very thing that pulled Sigyn away from him. _He_ was the reason why Sigyn insisted upon walking behind Loki when they were together so she appeared to be alone, why she refused to dance with him anymore, and why she could so rarely stay the night in his chambers. When Loki craved her the most, when he needed to hear her laugh and wrap her in his arms, she was not there. She was with Theoric.

It was enough to drive him mad.

The mere mention of the brute set Loki’s teeth on edge. There was not a Crimson Hawk he passed that did not receive a withering glare, and all because something deep within him knew there was nothing, not within even his power, that could be done to alter the circumstances.

He could not so much as challenge Theoric, nor even openly dislike him, without making his relationship with Sigyn more vulnerable than it already was. He wouldn’t risk that, not now when his feelings for her had taken such deep root that Loki was beginning to think their hold might never slacken. The only future he wanted to imagine for himself was one with Sigyn in it, but he knew perfectly well that no amount of wishful thinking could make such a future feasible.

Even so, Loki’s resentment had grown such that inaction was not an option. In an unknowing Thor, Loki found the intermediary he needed to orchestrate Theoric’s humiliation from afar. Sigyn would never need to know, for she would only ever hear of the role Thor had played. Loki, for his part, found it took little effort to justify his actions to his own conscience; he had never been prone to remorse. If he were, he very much doubted he would have pursued Sigyn to begin with.

By the same standard, Loki felt no guilt in bringing Theoric’s continued command of the Crimson Hawks into question as part of his scheme. He only needed to plant a seed of doubt. Already, Thor was regarding the captain with a frown, though Loki could see he was not yet entirely swayed.

“The accident was over a month ago,” said Thor, shaking his head slowly. “If he were mentally debilitated by it, to the point that his abilities were failing him, surely we’d have seen it by now.”

“I disagree. He was running on anger before, and it’s waning,” said Loki, lowering his voice and leaning forward to articulate his point. “You see it in his eyes; he isn’t fully engaged. Do you think a man like that would be capable in crisis, brother?”

Thor considered this. “He’s always seemed the capable sort,” he grumbled. “But your doubts are not unfounded.”

Loki shrugged and folded his arms. “I may be wrong, of course.”

Thor sighed. “Even so, I won’t forget it now that it has been brought to my attention. Perhaps Father should be made aware.”

“Perhaps… But it may be too soon to say anything. You wouldn’t want to be proven wrong.”

Thor scratched his neck, looking surly. “What would you suggest?”

Loki’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Why not put him to the test yourself?”

Thor glanced sideways at him, surprised but not disapproving.

“Challenge him?”

Loki pressed his lips together and nodded. They both knew perfectly well that even at their best, no one, not even one of Odin’s most elite guards, stood a chance against Thor. For Thor, to test Theoric meant an opportunity to demonstrate his own strength, which, though he would almost certainly never admit it, would be immensely gratifying.

For Loki, it meant the promise that, whether or not Theoric performed acceptably, he would lose to the prince.

“See how he responds in the face of a threat.” Loki grinned at his brother. “Under the guise of friendly competition, of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor certainly did not disappoint. From his place just beyond where walls of the palace opened into the courtyard, Loki watched, invisible. His brother approached Theoric, and seemed to engage him in friendly conversation before inviting the captain to step into the ring with him. Every eye in the yard turned towards the prince and his opponent.

The latter chose the weapon— broadsword— and the pair began to duel. Most who had stopped to watch were very vocally in support of their prince, and for once, Loki was with them. Theoric’s men were watching too, but they did not cheer; Loki suspected they didn’t dare show preference.

If there was any victory for Theoric, it was that his position was certainly not endangered. He fought with a resilience Loki had not expected of him, but he was still no match for Thor. Twice, he took such heavy blows that Loki was certain he would concede, but he did not. His strength was clearly dwindling, however. Though the Crimson Hawks winced, Loki found himself devoid of pity. In fact, it was all he could do to keep from imagining that had been was his own sword to draw the blood now dripping from Theoric’s side and shoulder.

Only when Thor knocked the weapon from Theoric’s hand and slammed him to the ground did Theoric raise his hands in surrender.

On-site healers swarmed the defeated captain as the spectators roared their approval of Thor. Loki beamed with satisfaction that no one could see. It had been far too easy.

Theoric’s wounds were swiftly bandaged, and Thor offered a hand to heave the captain to his feet, saying words Loki couldn’t hear. Theoric smiled grimly and lumbered away. He ignored the other guards and headed towards the palace and, unknowingly, towards Loki.

Only when Theoric had walked past him did Loki show himself.

“My, my, Captain,” he drawled. “You seem to have come off worse in a fight.”

Theoric started and looked around. He blanched when he saw Loki, whom he appeared to have passed without acknowledging. In his bewilderment, Theoric stumbled over his words.

“Only— only a friendly duel, my prince. Nothing of consequence.”

Loki’s cool stare, however, was anything but friendly. Whether due to Theoric’s surprise or some false sense of amity between them, he had completely neglected to observe proper conduct, and Loki wished to remind the captain to whom he was speaking.

With clear displeasure, he looked the warrior up and down and said nothing. To Theoric’s credit, he caught on quickly and straightened into as respectful an attitude as he could manage in his condition. Only then did Loki reply.

“You know, you really shouldn’t allow yourself to be bullied by my brother, not in the least in front of your men. You wouldn’t want to appear weak.”

“No, my prince,” said Theoric promptly. A smug smiled spread across Loki’s face. There was far too much pleasure in exerting his superiority over this man for him to resist it.

“Are you off duty?” he asked.

“Yes, my prince.”

Loki chuckled. “At ease, Captain. No need for such formality between friends.”

Theoric relaxed, and Loki marveled at the effect the word ‘friend’ had on him. Not a moment ago, the warrior had looked like a scolded dog. Now it was as though Loki had dangled a scrap of meat in front of him. Though vaguely confused, Theoric was too hungry for Loki’s good opinion to recognize how easily he was manipulated.

Assuming Loki’s show of authority to be nothing more than a good-natured joke, Theoric chortled, and Loki returned the smile.

“I hope you’re headed to the healers,” said Loki, eyeing the crimson patch that was already soaking through the crudely wrapped bandages. Theoric, however, brushed the suggestion aside.

“I hardly want to go through the trouble,” he said. “My wife will patch me up.”

Loki’s smile faltered, a fleeting image of Sigyn tending to Theoric’s wounds making his stomach churn.

“Will she indeed?”

“In no time, Your Highness,” Theoric assured him. He chuckled. “She’s certainly good for some things.”

Loki bit his tongue. Though he knew Theoric was not a fraction as appreciative of his wife as he should have been, this was the first Loki had heard him speak remotely fondly of her. He had always imagined the distaste Sigyn harbored for her husband to be mutual. It had never occurred to him that the truth might be otherwise.

“I’m surprised to hear you say so,” said Loki. “Only recently you described her to be incredibly dull.”

Vaguely, however, Loki recalled Sigyn’s mention of her effort to stay on good terms with Theoric to avoid his scrutiny. What had then seemed a reasonable strategy to Loki now seemed a disgusting treachery. He suddenly loathed anything that pleased Theoric, anything that left him thinking his wife gave a damn about him.

Loki clasped his hands behind his back, energy tingling in his palms, his magic longing, almost of its own accord, to further injure the captain and make it perfectly clear how severely wrong he was.

Loki gave no trace of this away, however, and settled, instead, on another harmless taunt.

“This can’t be a change of heart, can it, Captain?”

Theoric snickered, leaning his uninjured arm on the hilt of sword in his belt. Loki gnashed his teeth, deeply annoyed with his apparent ease.

“I don’t pretend to be a romantic, Your Highness. For any trouble she’s worth, Sigyn is a dutiful wife. And besides that, I have grown used to her over the years. Our arrangement suits me quite well.”

“And does it suit her?”

To Loki’s mild surprise, Theoric’s eyes darkened. For once he appeared to have taken Loki’s words to be something other than complimentary.

“Why shouldn’t it? The woman wants for nothing.”

Nothing indeed, thought Loki bitterly. What Theoric could offer her did not amount to half of what Loki could, given the chance. The sudden urge to prove it to her overwhelmed him, and as his mind raced ahead, planning exactly how he might attempt to do so, he dared to imagine that Sigyn could truly be his and his alone.

His beautiful, kind Sigyn… Sigyn, who had never been anything but accepting of him. If he could only admit to her the profoundness of his feelings, he felt certain she would return the sentiments. How could she not?

“I would not presume to know anything of your marriage, Captain,” said Loki calmly. “I do know, however, that you cannot possibly hope to go anywhere in this condition. I insist you be treated here at the palace. And I will personally see that your wife is notified of your whereabouts.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_My dear Sister,_

_I hope you can accept my most sincere apologies. When last we spoke, I was out of sorts, and I_ ’ _m afraid I spoke in an entirely unwarranted matter. I meant neither to insult you nor to behave as I did. The fault was entirely mine._

_If you are thus inclined, I would like to invite you to the house this afternoon. I very much wish to see you again, and we shall be undisturbed, as Theoric will be at the palace. I hope you_ ’ _ll come, if only so I can make my amends to you in person._

_Sigyn_

Sigyn spent her afternoon wiping tears.

To her relative surprise, Ásdís had been perfectly amenable to her invitation. Then again, Sigyn supposed it must be easy to forgive someone who took all the blame for a disagreement onto their own shoulders.

Sigyn’s conversation with Lukas the morning after Thor’s birthday had brought to light something to which Sigyn had not previously been privy: Ásdís and her husband were trying to start a family, and thus far, they had been unsuccessful. From Sigyn’s perspective, however, this knowledge raised more questions than it answered.

Ásdís, it transpired, was not reluctant to provide answers. Contrary to Sigyn’s suspicion that her sister might not want to discuss the subject at all, considering she had kept it from Sigyn before, Ásdís seemed to have come to Sigyn in the express pursuit of advice.

So, Sigyn had listened as Ásdís told her everything. They’d been trying for over a year, said Ásdís, and until very recently, she had been unwilling to consider that anything might be wrong. It was for this reason that she had never mentioned anything to Sigyn, but now she seemed to have developed the fear that she might never have a child.

Sigyn offered what empathy she could, accompanied by great amounts of tea and pastries though Sigyn suspected Ásdís could use something stronger. Some small part of her imagined that if she were comforting and understanding towards her sister now, the favor might be repaired the next time Sigyn wished to discuss her own hardships, but her hopes were not high.

When Ásdís launched into an account of just exactly often they had tried, and where, and in which positions, Sigyn cut her short.

“Ásdís, when I spoke to Lukas he seemed to think you were displeased with him. He said you were… distant. And upset.”

Ásdís looked indignant.

“I _am_ upset,” she sniffed, slouching in her seat. “Surely he knows why.”

“Oh darling, I don’t think men are always as observant as we want them to be,” said Sigyn with a weary chuckle. “There’s every chance he doesn’t know what you’re thinking, even if you think he ought to.”

Ásdís tossed her head back, looking to be on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to tell him what I’ve told you.”

Sigyn sat forward, frowning. “Which bit?” she asked gently.

Ásdís shrugged, and her lip trembled. Sigyn sighed and pulled her sister into her arms, smoothing her hair. Though Ásdís was silent Sigyn could feel her shaking and pitied her sister. She was reminded of their childhoods and the many other times she had comforted her. Ásdís had always been more prone to tears than Sigyn.

“How can I help, Dísa?”

“I don’t know,” Ásdís sniffed. “I’m just afraid—“

Ásdís didn’t need to finish. Sigyn knew exactly what she was afraid of.

“Maybe there’s nothing wrong,” she said soothingly. “Sometimes it can take longer.”

“It’s not supposed to take this long!” Ásdís hiccuped, and Sigyn pursed her lips.

“I hesitate to ask, but have you thought about any alternatives?”

Ásdís pulled away from Sigyn, wiping her eyes. “Like what?”

“There’s a children’s home in the city,” said Sigyn carefully. “You could—“

Ásdís shook her head quickly. “No. I can’t imagine suggesting that to Lukas. It would break his heart.”

“I think you’re wrong to assume so,” Sigyn said firmly. “That man cares a ridiculous amount for you, and I’d be astounded if he wouldn’t at least consider it.”

“Maybe.” Ásdís scratched her wrist uncomfortably.

“Darling, if you push him away, I think you’ll come to regret it.”

“Is that like what happened to you?” Ásdís asked quietly. “And Theoric?”

Sigyn almost laughed. The question was tactless, certainly, but it didn’t faze her in the least. 

“No,” she said plainly. “No, not really. We were never… Well, we were never a very good match. But what you and Lukas have is so different. I would kill for something like it.”

“My lady?”

Sigyn looked up. Standing in the doorway was the housekeeper, Maeva. She looked rather pale.

“Yes?” said Sigyn.

“There’s been a message from the palace,” said Maeva anxiously. Sigyn’s heart skipped a beat. It could only be from Loki, surely. Had Maeva realized who the sender was?

But what Maeva said next was the last thing Sigyn expected to hear.

“It’s His Lordship, my lady. He’s been injured. Not gravely, mind, but you are requested at the palace immediately.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sigyn arrived at his medical ward, Theoric was in a foul mood. His wounds, though not half as bad as she had feared they might be, were clearly painful, and the discomfort was doing nothing to improve his humor. As one of the nurses assigned to him cleaned his wounds, the other explained to Sigyn what had transpired on the training ground.

“Prince Thor did this?” Sigyn asked in disbelief, looking at her husband.

“It was meant in good will,” Theoric snapped, hissing as salve was applied to the wound on his shoulder.

“Clearly,” said Sigyn dryly.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, my lady,” said the nurse quickly. “But His Highness insisted that your husband recover here.”

“Thor?”

“No, Loki,” grunted Theoric.

Sigyn’s attention snapped to him, but she kept her expression neutral. “Oh?”

“I told him you were perfectly capable of seeing to it, but he said it was the least he could do.”

Sigyn wet her lips. “I see… Well, it sounds as though you’re on good terms with him, at least.”

This, in Theoric’s mind, seemed to be the silver lining. Sigyn, however, was skeptical. She sincerely doubted that Loki had been innocent in all of this; quite frankly, the entire ordeal stank of him.

The day had clearly taken its toll on Theoric, and to Sigyn’s great relief, he was fast asleep long before dark. She sat beside him, fiddling with the wedding band on her finger and wondering whether he expected her to stay here all night. Before long, however, her thoughts were interrupted.

“My lady?”

Sigyn looked around to see the sole nurse who remained holding out a piece of folded paper.

“I’m meant to give you this.”

Sigyn murmured her thanks as she accepted it. When the nurse moved away, flipping through a series of Theoric’s medical reports, Sigyn unfolded the note, knowing who had written it even before she saw Loki’s hasty hand.

_Come out. I need you._

Sigyn glanced around the room. She had no doubt Loki was just outside. As for Theoric— she suspected she wouldn’t have to worry about him for quite some time.

Tucking the note into her pocket, Sigyn got to her feet, and the nurse glanced at her.

“Please tell His Lordship, if he wakes, that I have been called away and will be back as quickly as I can,” said Sigyn quietly. She doubted she would need an alibi, but she resolved to think of something just in case Theoric asked her later.

The nurse nodded, and Sigyn slipped out of the room. The corridor, however, was deserted. Loki was nowhere in sight. Sigyn hesitated.

“Loki?” she hissed.

“Shhh…” came the disembodied reply. Loki materialized in front of her, smirking. “Someone might hear you.”

He caught her in his arms, but Sigyn twisted out of them. “Someone might _see_ you,” she retorted. Loki chuckled.

“Then come upstairs with me,” he urged. “I have something for you.”

Sigyn raise her eyebrows at him with as disapproving a look as she could muster. “Oh?”

“Lady Sigyn, I’m surprised at you,” he chastised. “Nothing like _that_. I assure you, my intentions are entirely decent.”

Sigyn had every reason to doubt this, but she allowed him to lead her away. The distraction was welcome. There was no need to question him about this afternoon, she decided, no reason to waste what time they had together making accusations.

As she’d predicted, the moment they were safely behind the closed doors of his chambers, his mouth was on hers. Sigyn’s fingers twisted in his hair, tugging him closer, and he let out a low groan. Breathlessly, she laughed.

“You lied,” she teased softly.

“I did not,” Loki insisted, giving her another kiss—this one far more chaste—before drawing back. “I _do_ have a gift for you, but am I not allowed to kiss you first?”

Sigyn smiled. “I have no objections.”

“I certainly hope not.”

He took her hand and led her across the room to stand before the mirror that stood beside the overlarge wardrobe.

“If you would,” said Loki, turning her towards the glass with the smug smile she had grown all too familiar with. Bewildered, Sigyn looked at her reflection, knowing better than to ask what he was up to.

Loki swept her hair to the side and kissed the nape of her neck. Then he reached around her so that his hands met just above her breastbone. When he drew them apart, there was a shimmer of light and a beautiful necklace, set with emeralds and diamonds, materialized there. Sigyn’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, Loki—“ she whispered, lifting her hand to her neck, fingers dancing over the [necklace](http://fortheloveofsigyn.tumblr.com/post/113794942469), almost hesitant to touch something so extravagantly beautiful.

He grinned as he fastened the clasp behind her neck. “It seemed fitting,” he said in her ear. Sigyn let out a breathless laugh.

“I might agree if it were on the Queen’s neck.”

Clearly pleased with himself, Loki chuckled and tenderly kissed the point where her neck and shoulder met.

“You deserve the very best,” he whispered.

Sigyn didn’t know what to say. She stared at her reflection, at the woman standing before her in the finest jewels money could buy, with a prince nipping at her neck, and her stomach flipped. It was all very well in the confines of this room, but that woman could not exist anywhere else, and she could practically feel Loki’s desire that it should be otherwise.

In this gesture, she knew there was something possessive. Glittering away in colors that were known to be his, made with jewels fit only for royalty, the necklace made a very clear statement, one that quite frankly, made her uneasy. Her silence, she supposed, must have lasted a moment too long.

“Don’t you like it?” asked Loki, his grin fading.

Sigyn opened her mouth to assure him of exactly what he wanted to hear, but found she could not. His eyes, locked on hers in the mirror, were earnest. He looked every bit as vulnerable as she felt, and she knew he deserved her honesty, even if it injured his pride. She sucked in her lips anxiously.

“Of course, I do,” she said softly, leaning against his chest. “It’s beautiful. I just… I just don’t see how I could ever wear it.”

Loki did not flinch, but only wrapped his arms protectively around her. Perhaps he had anticipated her reply.

“I suppose the reason has something to do with your husband.”

It was strange to hear Loki, who rarely mentioned Theoric without Sigyn mentioning him first, so calmly give voice to the truth she did not wish to speak aloud. Sigyn nodded, her eyes still on those of his reflection.

“He’d want to know where it came from,” she explained softly. “It hardly escapes his notice that I never wear the things he has gifted me…. And it’s unlikely he would be pleased if I claimed to have bought it myself.”

“No, I don’t imagine he would,” said Loki slowly. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Aren’t you getting tired of this, Sigyn?” he asked. “All the sneaking around? The hiding?”

Sigyn frowned. “What alternative is there? To tell Theoric?” She snorted. “Perhaps we could all have dinner together.”

He ignored her sarcasm, not so much as cracking a smile.

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Sigyn turned her head to look up at him, but his gaze stayed fixed on their reflections. She saw his jaw twitch, and he swallowed. His hold on her tightened infinitesimally, as if she could anchor him in place. It seemed to be not so much for Sigyn’s benefit as for his own, as though he might be fortified by her presence. She covered his hand with one of hers.

“Then what?” she said gently, as Loki nuzzled her hair.

“I’m asking whether…” He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was with greater certainty.

“I am asking you to consider leaving him.”

His declaration struck Sigyn dumb. Her hand dropped from his, and she pulled out of his arms without thinking. She’d heard him wrong, she reasoned. She turned to face him, and wet her lips.

“Come again?”

Loki’s lips pressed together, but he did not repeat himself. He knew perfectly well that he didn’t have to.

“Norns,” breathed Sigyn, fiddling mindlessly with the necklace which was suddenly all too heavy.  From the moment he had hung it around her neck, perhaps she ought to have anticipated a conversation as significant as this. She felt foolish that she had not.

Loki’s hand brushed against her elbow, and she looked up at him sharply.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, and Sigyn choked out a breathless laugh.

“Well, I am,” she replied weakly. “I didn’t expect this.”

Loki exhaled heavily. He caught her hands, and bowed his head to press a kiss to her forehead.

“You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it,” he murmured.

Sigyn had most certainly thought about it. For years it had been her fantasy, a private indulgence to imagine that she might slip away some night and never come home. But she’d always known she could never act on it. And she’d certainly never thought she would do it at the request of another man.

“Not seriously.”

“Well, I’m asking you to now,” said Loki. Sigyn blinked rapidly, feeling breathless. There was nothing flippant in the way Loki spoke. She realized with a start that he would have her leave tonight if it were possible. For a fleeting moment, she imagined what her life might become if she were free to do as she pleased. She just might have the strength to do it… She could request the divorce within the hour. It would have to be approved by the All Father, of course, but perhaps Loki could help and she could be gone in the morning, and when Theoric awoke…

Every ounce of confidence she possessed dissipated. If and when she left, Theoric would find out about Loki, about everything. She imagined his rage and shuttered. What might he do? Being thus disgraced was Theoric’s greatest nightmare, and she imagined he would stop at nothing to see that she paid dearly for dragging his name through the mud.

He could very well refuse to separate altogether. It was unnerving to think of how little effort it would take him to turn her accusations around. He would twist her words and deny anything she said against him until she even began to doubt her own memories. Sigyn knew what it felt like to manipulated by him.

He could guilt her into staying if he wanted to, and any chance of their relationship improving would be ruined for good. There would be no one to blame but herself. Theoric would despise her. After so many years of trying desperately to please him, she couldn’t bear the thought. It filled her with the most horrible sort of dread she had ever felt.

“I can’t,” she croaked. She hadn’t realized it before, but she knew now: she was unable to leave Theoric.

Loki, clearly, had been expecting another answer. He dropped her hands. Surprise widened his eyes for a moment before they narrowed, unhappily.

“Surely you can admit to yourself that you would be far better off without that despicable man in your life.”

But Sigyn could not admit it to herself, much less admit it to him.

“No one’s all bad,” she whispered. Loki made a sound of impatience.

“So says you, perhaps. That I disagree is another matter entirely…” He raked his fingers through his hair, exasperated.

“Sigyn,” he said, in a carefully measured tone, “what reason is there to stay?”

“It’s not about a reason to stay,” Sigyn said quietly. “But rather reasons not to leave.”

“And they would be?” prompted Loki. His composure was waning, frustration brewing beneath the surface. Sigyn wrung her hands, wishing away the lump that was rising in her throat.

“I’ve only ever been someone’s wife or daughter,” she said, cringing when the words reached her own ears. How pitiful they sounded. “I’ve never been on my own— I wouldn’t know the first thing to do.”

Only barely, Loki’s smile returned. “Do you not think I would gladly welcome you here?”

This did nothing to ease Sigyn’s mind but rather filled it with a host of new complications she had yet to think of.

“Yes, and I can hear what would be said already,” she replied, dejectedly. “Can’t you imagine? I would be the whore that left her husband for a greater prize. I would never be treated the same again.”

Loki’s face hardened. “You would let yourself be stopped by what other people say? That seems a poor excuse,” he snapped, his voice surprisingly harsh.

“Maybe to you,” said Sigyn defensively, desperate that he should understand. “You wouldn’t be the one facing the consequences.”

Loki turned from her, but not so quickly that she missed the bitter expression he wore. He paced away from her, rubbing his forehead.

“Don’t make this out to be such an easy thing!” pleaded Sigyn, but Loki did not look back at her. She felt a spark of indignation; he ought to at least listen. “What you’re asking of me would change everything… Not that I suppose you care so long as you can have your way.”

Loki looked back at her now, expression sour.

“My way?” he repeated derisively.

Sigyn huffed, and crossed her arms. “Don’t act as if I’ve accused you of something outlandish, Loki,” she said impatiently. “It’s no secret that you tend to have what you want.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “Today, for example! I wasn’t going to say anything, but surely you didn’t expect me to believe for a moment that Thor would have had any reason to challenge Theoric unless you had put the idea into his head.”

Loki’s nostrils flared, but he did not deny his involvement.

“It astounds me that you would defend him,” he said, his voice tight.

“As much as you hate to acknowledge it, he _is_ my husband.”

“Do you think I’ve forgotten?” Loki seethed, his voice rising. “How could I when I am reminded at every turn?”

Sigyn flinched, but she stood her ground. She had never seen him angry before, but she certainly seemed to have made him so now.

“But you cannot possibly understand the years of my life that have been dedicated to that marriage,” said Sigyn, as reasonably as she could. “I won’t pretend my relationship with my husband is ideal, but I have put too much effort into it to walk away without hesitation.”

Loki snorted. “You’re right. I can’t understand that,” he sneered. Sigyn frowned.

“I am giving you as much as I can,” she said emphatically. “Please see that.”

“Maybe it isn’t enough,” barked Loki.

“This is jealously!” cried Sigyn. “And it’s unfounded, you know that, and yet you’re behaving like a child!”

“Am I?” asked Loki, challengingly. “Does that make me worse than even him?”

Sigyn threw her hands up in exasperation. “Are you trying to be? Because there should be no comparison at all, so far as I’m concerned. Aren’t you supposed to be the better option?”

She may as well have struck him for the look on his face at being compared to Theoric.

“If I were so _different_ ,” said Loki, practically spitting the word, “you wouldn’t be choosing him.” He turned away from her again, practically quaking with anger. Sigyn started to reach for him, but stopped herself.

“I’m not choosing him,” she said in earnest. “But I _am_ tied to him, and I cannot agree to what you’re asking. How could I?”

“Because he doesn’t love you!” roared Loki, wheeling around. His voice rang through the room, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling, and Sigyn stared at him in disbelief.

“And you do,” she whispered. “Is that it?”

Loki stared back, his chest heaving. He looked for a moment as though he might shout again, but when he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper.

“Hadn’t you realized?”

Sigyn’s mouth formed a silent “oh.” He loved her. Her throat constricted, and she looked down, clamping her arms around herself as if to close him off. He loved her, and she was certain that some part of her had indeed already known. Perhaps he had meant his words to persuade her or maybe reassure her, but she felt only dread at his admission.

She wasn’t supposed to love him back, of that she felt certain, no matter how large a part of her tried to reason otherwise. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

She dared herself to look up at Loki, aware as she did that her eyes were hot with tears. He was staring at her with apprehension, hope, and fear all at once. She opened her mouth, and quickly shut it again. Pressing her lips together, Sigyn shook her head.

Her meaning was plain to Loki. As Sigyn watched with baited breath, his face fell. He swallowed hard, and looked away from her.

Sigyn choked back an abrupt sob, and quickly clapped a hand to her mouth. Part of her ached to reach out to him, desperate for the gentle words she was accustomed to hearing from him, but one look at him told her they weren’t coming.

“You may show yourself out.”

Sigyn’s stomach clenched. His voice was cold. He still hadn’t looked at her and clearly had no intention to. Deftly, she nodded, unable to think. Her entire body felt numb as she turned away from him.

Only when the door to his chambers was shut behind her did Sigyn realize she still wore Loki’s necklace, but she didn’t think of going back. She could think only of moving herself as far from his presence as possible. The walls of the palace felt suddenly stifling; she couldn’t breathe.

Loki would never want to see her again. She had ruined any chance of that. As ever, Sigyn had done the thing that was right by all reason and principle, and she despised herself for it. Here she’d had a chance at happiness, and she’d thrown it away, hurting Loki in the process. He must feel that she had used him terribly… He thought she didn’t love him…

So distressed was Sigyn by her whirling thoughts that she paid hardly any mind to where she was going, and when she rounded the corner into the corridor that would take her away from the  private wing of the palace, she collided forcefully with someone walking the other way.

“Excuse me,” Sigyn gasped. “I was—“

But before she could invent a reason for being there, tearstained and wearing jewels that amounted to a larger sum of money than Theoric made in a year, she lost all power of speech.

Standing before her, eyes wide with surprise and awaiting the rest of Sigyn’s explanation, was none other that the queen herself.


	12. Chapter 11

Sigyn sat, eyes closed, hands clasped together in her lap. Directly opposite her, a wide mahogany desk separating them, sat Frigga. Silent tears slipped through Sigyn’s lashes and down her cheeks, and she cursed herself for them. She should have been able to suppress them and hamper her emotions, but it had very quickly become clear that she had nothing to hide.

Frigga’s surprise at finding Sigyn had lasted only seconds. Eyes narrowed, she’d looked right past her and down the corridor towards Loki’s chambers. Before Sigyn could so much as open her mouth, the queen’s hand was on her shoulder, turning her away.

“Come quickly, my dear. It would not do for you to be seen here by anyone else.”

Too flustered to argue, Sigyn had allowed herself to be ushered away to the queen’s study, but she felt uneasy. Frigga’s urgency to remove Sigyn from the vicinity made it seem as though she knew exactly what she was doing. Her expression was not one of confusion or surprise, but rather of disappointment. It made Sigyn’s insides curdle.

The realization that followed hit Sigyn with such force that it swept the breath from her lungs. She felt foolish for not realizing it sooner. Frigga had been afforded the opportunity to observe Sigyn and Loki up close on numerous occasions: Theoric’s promotion ceremony, the night they’d dined with the All Father, all the times she’d come to court just to slip away with him… Despite Loki’s constant reassurances that no one knew of their relationship, Sigyn needed only look at his mother realize how terribly mistaken he had been. Frigga knew.

With this knowledge, the beautiful, delicate world that Sigyn had created for herself was completely shattered. Her argument with Loki had chipped away at it, and the damage, like a fractal crack in a glass pane, had left her ready to fall apart at the slightest disturbance. Everything now seemed beyond repair.

Tears began to fall, streaking Sigyn’s cheeks and showing no sign of slowing. It was a mercy they were not accompanied by the shuddering sobs that had broken free when Loki dismissed her. She only cried now because she truly did not know what else to do. She had never before felt such complete hopelessness as that now sitting heavily in her chest.

Frigga said nothing, waiting patiently for Sigyn to collect herself enough to speak. With every moment that passed, the silence became more stifling until at last Sigyn could no longer bear it.

“Have you known for long?” she asked. Her eyes stayed shut; she was not ready to face Frigga’s displeasure.

“Long enough,” Frigga answered evenly, and Sigyn wished she could be so composed. “I had hoped Loki would act with greater caution.”

Sigyn nodded, tight lipped. “I suppose— I suppose this is better,” she whispered, reaching behind her neck and unfastening Loki’s necklace. She opened her eyes as it fell heavily into her hands, and she felt another pang of guilt. Removing it had a certain finality to it. “All the better that it’s come to an end.”

“Why did it ever begin?” asked Frigga, imploringly. Sigyn cringed. By all logic and reason, she knew it was not understandable that she had put herself in this position.

“I can’t think why now,” she said weakly, feeling sick with herself. Another fat tear dripped from her lashes. “It seems like a lifetime ago I made the decision, but… it felt worth it. He made me happy.”

Frigga’s eyes widened so slightly Sigyn might have missed it, but she did not yet speak. Instead, Sigyn’s words settled into silence, giving her a moment to regret her honesty.

“What is the state of your marriage?” asked the queen slowly.

“It’s a marriage,” Sigyn sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her thumbs. She could taste the salt of her tears on her lips. “A union. There’s nothing more than law that binds us.”

Frigga sighed heavily. “So you sought affection elsewhere,” she stated.

Sigyn nodded tearfully, and looked up at the ceiling. “What you must think of me…”

This was different from seeing herself through the eyes of her brother-in-law. The queen saw her completely, lies and secrets and all, the woman ruled by her emotions and still insolent enough to pity herself, as though she had not knowingly caused her own misery.

“I don’t quite know what to think,” said Frigga, sitting forward. With a twist of her wrist, she conjured a handkerchief, which she passed to Sigyn with a smile far kinder than anything Sigyn felt she deserved.

“What was it that drove you and your husband apart, Sigyn?” she asked gently.

Sigyn bit down hard on her lips. Her eyes were sore from crying, and being asked about Theoric made her feel weary, especially having just argued over the subject with Loki.

“I’m not— I shouldn’t speak ill of him, Your Majesty, especially not to you. By all the Nine, he serves your husband…”

“Everything said in this room shall be held in complete confidence, Sigyn,” said Frigga. “You have nothing to fear.”

In spite of herself, Sigyn found herself trusting that Frigga would not betray her secret, and something inside of her uncoiled. The chance to have someone listen without fear of retaliation was terribly tempting, and although the words poised on the tip of her tongue were ones she knew should never be spoken, she found them spilling out of her.

“I just can’t seem to make him happy,” croaked Sigyn. “And I _have_ tried. I don’t mean to make him upset with me, I really don’t… but I always seem to.”

Her voice broke, and she turned her head away in frustration. This was unlike her, to lose complete control of her emotions, but she could think only of her failures, of the husband she had betrayed, and the prince she had wounded.

“Is he faithful to you?” Frigga asked quietly.

Sigyn gave the tiniest shake of her head. “But that’s no excuse for what I’ve done.”

“No,” Frigga agreed. “But I cannot expect that you would love a man who does not love you in return.”

“I fear I must have ruined any chance of that a very long time ago,” Sigyn said quietly. She looked down at the necklace clutched in her hand and sighed as she placed it on the desk between them. “And now again, with Loki.”

Frigga wet her lips. “Is there a question of love? Has it come to that extreme?”

“I never meant it to,” Sigyn whispered, a pleading edge to her voice. It felt important that she justify her actions. “I never meant to hurt him. I never dreamt I could.”

Frigga nodded, her gaze turning to the necklace between them. She looked paler than she had a moment before, a look of melancholy on her face as her fingers brushed over the jewels.

“I see.”

Sigyn hoped she did. “Surely this is best, to end it now before—“

Her mouth went suddenly dry. The necklace beneath Frigga’s fingertips had begun to glow, and one glance at the queen’s expression told Sigyn that the magic was not her doing. The golden gleam of light grew brighter, until suddenly it faded away and the necklace vanished with it. It took Sigyn a moment to realize what had happened, but when she did, her chest constricted painfully: Loki had summoned his gift back from her.

Sigyn shut her eyes. Her heart beat faster, aching so intensely that she worried it might give out altogether. She almost wished it would; at least then the impossible pressure knotting in her chest might be eased.

Frigga cleared her throat. “You may be right,” she said gently. “Perhaps it _is_ for the best… But in the end, my dear, it is your choice to make. You’re the one who will have to live with it. Don’t let someone else make it for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sigyn soon left the queen’s study and made her way back to Theoric. Her mind was racing. Frigga had given her a great deal to think about, and although in many ways she had said exactly what Sigyn needed to hear, it did not make matters any easier.

In the morning Theoric was discharged from the palace infirmary, and they returned home. Four days passed, and Sigyn tried to press on as usual, but with no hope of seeing Loki again in the foreseeable future, she was missing him terribly.

Sleep eluded her. Night after night, Sigyn lay in bed with her eyes open, staring blankly across the dark bedroom. She was exhausted, useless in the sunlit hours and ever-awaiting the close of each day when she could excuse herself to her room. But the moment the lights were extinguished, her thoughts became impossible to silence again.

Sigyn knew that if she were sensible, she would see this as the moment to get out of this mess before she ruined herself. She would forget Loki and everything that had happened between them. In time, the memories would fade. She would no longer be able to recall the sound of his voice or the touch of his skin. The warmth he inspired in her—that feeling of such absolute joy that she could hardly bear it— would be forgotten with the years. She would save her good name and Theoric’s and risk no backlash from him. She would live her life as she had intended, play the dutiful wife, and write this whole affair off as a juvenile blunder.

That would be the sensible thing to do, and the idea of it made her want to scream.

A life spent trying to please someone for whom she would never be enough would not satisfy Sigyn. She could force herself to silence her wishes and desires, and go on dimming her own light so that another’s could burn more brightly, but she’d spent years doing that already. She knew where it led, and it was not to happiness.

Happiness, unfortunately, was not so easily attained as stability. It would come with repercussions, potentially devastating ones, and Sigyn was uncertain whether she was ready to face them. A small courageous voice in her head, however, told her that if anyone were worth the risk, it was Loki.

The very thought of him made Sigyn ache in a way she could hardly describe, as though she knew she could never have enough of him. It was the desire to see him smile and know that she was the reason. It was compulsion to protect him in every way she knew how, to allow him to see her vulnerabilities and be shown his in return. Despite the logic that told her being with him was wrong, she had never done anything that felt more natural. She loved him.

The admission felt like fresh air filling her lungs. Sigyn only wished she had been able to reach it sooner. She might have been far away from this house by now. There was no doubt in her mind that had she consented to leave her husband, Loki would have complied with anything she had asked for and taken her anywhere she had wished.

As it was, Sigyn was too cowardly to decide, once and for all, what she wanted. And so she lay alone in her big empty bed, wishing sleep would come and give her a few hours’ respite but with no such luck.

Sighing in frustration, Sigyn sat up. She glanced at the bedside table where a small glass vial stood, still corked. It contained a sleeping draught that Kata had very thoughtfully procured for her. Sigyn’s fatigue, it seemed, had not gone unnoticed by her handmaiden, and not for the first time, she was exceptionally grateful for Kata’s well-honed observational skills.

The draught was quite strong, Kata had warned, so Sigyn had resolved to take it only if she could not sleep of her own accord. After three consecutive restless nights, she truly thought she might be able to, but having spent the past hour tossing and turning, Sigyn now found herself reaching for the vial. Its contents felt cold going down her throat, but she tasted nothing.

She felt nothing either. She tapped her nail on the now empty glass, wishing she’d thought to ask Kata how soon it would take effect. She flipped the covers back and got to her feet. Perhaps movement would help the draught to infiltrate her system.

Down the hall, Sigyn could hear Theoric moving about his room. It was not unusual that she should go to bed before him, but he seemed to be making more noise than usual. Sigyn suddenly remembered the small parcel in her dresser drawer containing supplementary healing salve for Theoric’s wounds. It had arrived from the healers this afternoon, and she had forgotten to bring it to him when he came home.

Reluctantly, she shrugged on her robe and retrieved the package from the drawer. The hallway was quiet, and when Sigyn reached Theoric’s bedroom door, a wave of unease washed over her. She could hardly remember when last she had crossed this threshold. She raised a hand and knocked lightly.

Theoric opened the door so quickly Sigyn nearly jumped back.

“Sigyn,” Theoric said blankly. “What—?”

She held the parcel out to him. “This came for you today. I’d forgotten. It’s for your wounds in case you run out of whatever it was they gave you before.”

Theoric took it from her, nodding. “Yes, I’ll be needing that.”

“I thought so,” said Sigyn. “How is it healing? Your shoulder?”

“Better than my side,” replied Theoric gruffly. He turned back into the room and tossed the package onto the bed where it landed beside an open suitcase. Sigyn stepped into the room, frowning.

“Are you— are you going somewhere?” she asked him uncertainly.

Theoric glanced between her and the case, brow furrowed. “Did I not tell you?”

Sigyn shook her head. “No…”

“The All Father’s presence has been requested in Vanaheim,” he said passively, sitting at the foot of the bed and unlacing his boots. “Dealings of some political nature, I gather.”

Sigyn stared at him. “And… you’re to go with him?”

Theoric sighed impatiently. “As I am the captain of his personal guard, that should hardly surprise you.”

Sigyn felt a flicker of irritation. “But you’ve just been injured,” she said as reasonably as she could.

“And I’m well enough recovered to do my duty.”

Sigyn pursed her lips. “When do you leave?”

“Two days,” Theoric replied. “And we’ll be away for the week.”

Sigyn snorted in disbelief, and Theoric looked up at her sharply.

“I don’t suppose you were going to tell me before then?” asked Sigyn sourly. Theoric’s expression turned cold, and he rested his elbows on his knees.

“You’re always out to pick a fight, aren’t you? I’m telling you now, and it’ll be no different than if I’d told you a week ago.”

“Well, I’d still—“ Sigyn inhaled sharply as a strange sensation swept abruptly over her. She felt as though something warm and syrupy was filling her veins, spreading slowly through her. She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to close her eyes. She pressed her palms flat against her abdomen in an effort to steady herself and tried to remember what she had wanted to say. “I’d st-still have liked to be told.”

“You’ll have some quiet around here,” Theoric contended. If his voice hadn’t sounded so distant, Sigyn might have been worried that he was cross with her.

“Won’t that please you?…Sigyn?”

Sigyn lifted a hand to her forehead and pushed it back through her hair lazily. “I-I don’t care,” she said, and she smiled at the revelation as she spoke it aloud. It felt quite nice not to care. Her every anxiety and every burden was falling quickly away, replaced by a drowsiness that was impossible to ignore. “I’m going to bed.”

Theoric’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t seem to want to press the matter. “Fine,” he said. “Go.”

Sigyn turned to leave, but something occurred to her, and she paused at the door to look back at her husband.

“It’s always quiet around here,” she said in a vague voice. It seemed a strange thing to her, but it was true. The house was so large for so few people. How funny…

Sigyn shook her head, feeling rather confused. “Good night.”

“…Good night,” Theoric replied, nonplussed.

Sigyn made her way back up the hall, struggling to keep her eyes open. Distantly, she remembered the sleeping draught and understood what had happened. She didn’t mind; it was quite pleasant. She felt like she was underwater, warm and safe, with everything around her somewhat muffled and distorted.

Her bed, when she reached it, was the most welcome sight she’d ever seen, and when she fell into it, sleep claimed her quickly, allowing her only a moment to wonder what that nagging feeling in the back of her mind was. There was something that had upset her, plagued her for days, even, but until morning, Sigyn would not remember what it was.

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The palace courtyard was lit with the warm light of torches and bonfires around which Odin’s company and their families were gathered. The smell of charred wood mingled with that of food and drink, and even above the music and laughter, the whinnying of the horses waiting at the palace gates could be heard. Only when the fires were burned out and the wine was gone would the All Father depart for Vanaheim.

Loki could think of nowhere he would like less to be than here. For a week, he had seen hardly anyone, save for the servants who tended to him—and on one morning, Thor, who had quickly come to regret making the visit. If not for his obligations as prince, Loki would have been as far from the gathering as possible and thus far from Lord Theoric and his wife.

Never in Loki’s life had he been made to feel so foolish, so thoroughly idiotic, as he had when last he had spoken to Sigyn. Prior to their argument, there had been a part of him that was painfully certain Sigyn loved him as he did her. In the time they had known one another, Loki had become attuned to the language of her eyes and body. He could see by the way she held herself if she had endured a particularly unpleasant encounter with Theoric. He was well acquainted with her hums and her sighs and the way she bit her lip. He knew the way she faltered when he whispered something indecent in her ear. He had thought he read her deep affection for him as well.

Sigyn’s rejection, however, had shown Loki just how wrong he had been. Sigyn did not love him, she only loathed her husband—though not, apparently, enough to consider leaving him. Loki should never have allowed himself to imagine it could be otherwise.

The moment he had dismissed her from his chambers, his anger got the better of him. A hurled curse shattered his mirror. Sigyn’s necklace was snatched back and locked in the drawer of Loki’s desk where he wouldn’t have to look at it. He told himself that his love for her only made him weak, that it had been no more than a delusion he had created for himself as he lay beside her in bed, filled with thoughts of her…

Even now, Loki could not banish her from his thoughts, no matter how desperately he tried. It seemed that the more he wished to put her from his head, to cast her off and convince himself that she had meant nothing to him, the more infuriatingly impossible it became to do so. Sigyn managed to occupy every corner of his mind, every moment of the day, driving him near madness. Bitter anger and desperate longing alike were clawing at his insides with no outlet, building to intolerable levels. The last thing he needed was to see her tonight.

The moment Loki spotted Sigyn amidst the crowds, however, he couldn’t seem to turn his gaze away. She was sitting on the low wall that bordered the waterway, talking to her sister and another woman Loki didn’t know. Theoric was nowhere near her, but it took Loki only a moment more to find the table at which he sat drinking with the other Crimson Hawks. It required every ounce of Loki’s restraint to keep him from dragging Theoric away from the others and tearing him limb from limb.

A week ago, the prospect of Theoric’s impending absence would have thrilled Loki. The idea of having Sigyn all to himself, even if only for a few days, would have been infinitely appealing. Unfortunately, all the potential time they might have had together had been lost, and Loki largely blamed Theoric from robbing them of it.

Sigyn’s happiness seemed unimpeded, however. As Loki watched, something said by her sister caused her to laugh, and although he couldn’t hear her over the clamor of voices, Loki knew what that laugh sounded like. The knowledge that she could be cheerful tonight pierced through his heart like a blade.

Yet as the night wore on, he couldn’t help but notice that every so often, Sigyn glanced around, as though expecting, or perhaps hoping, to see someone, and every time, Loki hid himself from sight. He remained in the shadows, hovering at the edge of the courtyard even as Odin’s company began to prepare for their departure.

Approaching footsteps garnered his attention, and Loki recognized the gait as his mother’s without needing to look at her.

“Nice of you to join us this evening. I was beginning to think we’d seen the last of you.”

“It’s exactly that sort of comment that makes me wish I’d stayed away,” said Loki, snappishly. “What do you want?”

He was being too sharp with her, his irritation seeping into his tone, and another time he might have been sorry, but he was in no mood for company just now.

“A well-mannered son, for one thing,” Frigga replied lightly. Loki grit his teeth but said nothing.

They stood for a moment in silence, and Frigga’s gaze followed Loki’s towards the guests. Around the courtyard, families and friends were biding one another safe travels, those accompanying Odin kissing their spouses and children goodbye. It did not escape Loki’s notice that Theoric had rejoined Sigyn, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. Blistering hot jealousy boiled in the pit of Loki’s stomach.

“Of all the women in Asgard…” said Frigga quietly. Loki’s attention snapped towards her to find that she, too, was watching Sigyn and Theoric, looking almost rueful. “Your ability to ignore reason when it suits you is uncanny.”

Loki swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” his mother said pointedly.

There was no use in contradicting her. Frigga had caught Loki in his lies before; he supposed it should come as no surprise that she had found out about Sigyn. After all, she had warned him only weeks ago to exercise caution when it came to how he occupied himself, and he had chosen to ignore her.

“Am I to be scolded?” he snorted. “Disciplined? If it makes any difference, I’ve already put an end to it.”

Frigga pursed her lips. “Do you understand the gravity of this, Loki? I should not need to remind you of the standards to which you are held. Or of the consequences you both may face if you are discovered.”

Loki scoffed. “ _You_ seem to have already discovered us,” he retorted.

Frigga sighed “I am prepared to stay silent on the matter.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“You are a grown man,” said Frigga. “I have no desire to pry into your affairs.”

Loki snorted at the double entendre, but he was far from amused.

“Just as well,” he said, scowling in the direction Sigyn and Theoric. “She’s made it perfectly clear that she prefers him.”

Frigga let out another heavy sigh and shook her head.

“No, she doesn’t.”

Loki bristled. His mother knew nothing of the circumstances, and he had no patience for her attempts to pacify him.

“Then why does she stay with him?” he challenged.

It was a moment before Frigga responded, and when she did, it was in the same infuriating soft voice.

“I’ve only ever been able to discern two reasons that anyone ever does anything: the first is love… and the second is fear. I don’t have to look far to guess which is at work in this case.”

He was loathe to admit it, but something in her statement resonated with Loki. Disturbed, he watched as Theoric kissed Sigyn’s cheek. If he’d known no better, Loki would have thought she flinched. When Theoric drew back, he spoke words Loki could not hear, and Sigyn nodded in response.

“He holds all the power and she none,” Frigga murmured. “She’s been so long manipulated by him that it’s against her every instinct to turn away. The last thing she needs is another reason to think she’s done something wrong.”

With a final wave, Theoric left Sigyn to join the other Crimson Hawks. As he walked away, Sigyn crossed her arms across her chest and let out a sigh. Once again, her eyes raked across the courtyard, a little crease forming between her brows.

Frigga’s hand rested gently on Loki’s arm, and he looked to her.

“Someone like that deserves a great deal of patience and understanding,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Especially someone who so freely shows others the same kindnesses.”

Loki could think of nothing to say. He truthfully did not know what to make of his mother’s assessment. A week’s worth of resentment told him to ignore it and cling to his anger, for that would be the easiest course of action. More daunting was the prospect of forgiveness—that which he might give, as well as that he might receive.

“I must go see your father off,” said Frigga with the barest of smiles. Loki nodded, and watched her retreat. Then he turned swiftly away.

Loki could feel himself falling into the same trap all over again, baited with hope like the fool he had already shown himself to be. He needed time to think before he acted rashly again. His feet carried him back into the palace, away from the courtyard and its many inhabitants. He climbed a flight of stairs and shut himself in the first room he came to where it seemed unlikely he would be disturbed.

The room was poorly lit, and though Loki could have flooded it with light with a wave of his hand, he did not. Instead, he paced the perimeter of the room, raking his fingers through his hair as he progressed.

Sigyn had every reason not to be with him, and she knew it. Loki was all too aware of the fact that everything she had said in her anger, every harsh word that had left her mouth, had been based entirely truth.

_She doesn’t want you any more then she wants Theoric_ , he told himself nastily. _You’re no more honorable than him._

Behind him, the door creaked on its hinges, and he whirled towards it, his nerves on edge. Beyond the window, the Bifröst lit up the sky for a fleeting moment, and the room was illuminated just as Sigyn stepped into it and shut the door firmly behind her.

Loki’s heart nearly stopped. Darkness fell over them once more, and it was a moment before Loki’s eyes adjusted so he could see her again. Sigyn had not moved. She stood with her back to the door, looking for a moment as though she might lose her nerve. Loki did not speak, unwilling to break the silence or moreover, do anything to drive her away before he could ascertain the reason that she had followed him.

A seemingly endless moment passed before she stepped forward and squared her shoulders.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Sigyn said, her voice wavering almost imperceptibly, “could I have a moment of your time?”


End file.
